Taken
by Wendy Vermonter
Summary: Taken is a story that moves Jim and Artie through a life that is very foreign to their usual world. Will they both adapt? Will they both escape? Will there be opportunities for gorgeous women?
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1. Kidnapped

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Jim watched his partner move slightly, shifting in his sleep. Artemus lay on the hard floor a few feet from him. Suddenly Artie's breathing became a low cough and his eyes fluttered open. He looked around, finally seeing Jim sitting on the wooden floor nearby. "You alright?" Jim's voice was low and even but it echoed oddly in the wooden room.

"Mostly," Artie said, slowly pushing himself to a sitting position. "Where the hell are we now?" His eyes moved around the small room, looking from one wooden wall to another, to the wooden ceiling and then around the floor where they sat, their bare feet almost touching. "Did someone put us in a box? And where are my boots?" He moved his arms, stretching, and looked down at his stomach, "and my coat and vest too," he growled.

Jim started to answer when the floor tipped slightly, almost swaying. Artie put both hands on the floor to steady himself. His dark eyes shot up to Jim's, exchanging a hard look. Jim took a deep breath and hissed out, "we're on a ship."

Artie closed his eyes and swallowed, "tell me we are not kidnapped. We can't be kidnapped. This is embarrassing. And I have a date tonight with Christian." He opened his eyes to look at the door, which was just a rectangular break in the wooden wall. "No door lock? No hinges? Damn," he breathed. "Anyone been in?"

"No," Jim said, as the floor tipped the other way now. "I woke up a while ago and haven't heard a thing; no voices, no one walking nearby. It's like they threw us in here and forgot about us." He nodded toward a corner of the room, "remember those two?"

"What?" Artie said, "Who?" He followed Jim's gaze to two men lying in a heap on the floor in the shadows. "Oh, we're not alone then." He leaned closer, palms on floor to steady himself, and looked at the men's faces. "No, I don't think I know them. One is young and the other is maybe our age?"

"The older one was sitting at a table, alone, in the back of that saloon we were in," Jim said, "and the younger one was going up the staircase with a bar maiden." He tipped his head back against the wall and closed his eyes. "They must have put something in our drinks, something strong and fast acting. I am trying to remember who else was in the saloon; the two women with us, that guy in the back corner, and kid who went upstairs." He paused, his fingers tapping on the floor by his hips. "There were two men in dark knitted caps near the other end of the bar. They were very quiet. Maybe they were waiting for the women to do their work of spiking the drinks."

"They were the body carriers?" Artie shook his head. "We must be more used to being drugged. We are wide awake now but they could sleep for hours. So what's the plan?" He wiggled his bare toes and smoothed his crumpled shirt across his chest. "Our boots are gone, coat, vest. I don't have a lot of tools available for one of our usual escape plan."

Jim's eyes opened to stare at Artie, "we are on a ship, probably out to sea by now. Where would we escape to? And I seriously doubt anyone knows where we are. We are stuck here until we can get off at a shoreline." He took another deep breath and let it out slowly, "We're going to have to just fit in, live the life of a sailor for a while." He kept his gaze steady, as Artie's mouth opened to protest. "Don't rock the boat, don't protest, don't argue, and don't cause any trouble. Just fit in. If we cause a problem, they could just dump us overboard. Understand?"

Artie took a long breath and nodded, keeping Jim's gaze. "It will be like being back in the army; Yes, sir and no, sir. Stand at attention. Don't speak until spoken to." He snorted, "well, I never served on a ship before. Maybe we will learn more life skills and see some fantastic tropical islands."

Jim grinned, relieved that Artie seemed to understand the situation. "Ya, we will be hip deep in exotic women any time now. You will forget all about Christian."

"I doubt that," Artie growled. "But Jeremy, and Colonel Richmond, will be looking for us. And our families will wonder what happened." He shook his head worriedly. "I think we solved Jeremy's case for him; we know what happened to the disappearing men."

"That's right," Jim said, "when they finally let us out of this room, we'll just put the Captain under arrest and order him to take us back to America." He smiled, gritting his teeth. "Poor man doesn't realize what trouble he's in."

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Later…

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The big man stomped past them, stepping over Artie's out-stretched legs with his big, hairy feet. He huffed and threw his arms out to the sides as he turned and stomped back. Jim gritted his teeth as the man paced back again. He pulled his feet closer, bending his legs and sitting with his elbows on his knees.

"Look, buddy," Jim snapped out, "why don't you just relax. You won't get out of this room any faster by getting all worked up. Besides, you might not like what's on the far side of that door."

"But I need to leave here, I tell you," the man yelled, waving his arms again. "I need to go home. I need to go to my job. I can't stay here. I won't stay here." He stomped between the two agents again as the men exchanged a look.

"What will they do to us?" The younger man asked timidly. He sat, bent over, almost curled in a ball in the corner. His voice shook and his eyes were wide with terror. "Will they kill us?"

Jim looked at his partner briefly but Artie was leaning back against the wall with his eyes shut now. Jim wasn't sure if he was listening intently to something outside of their room or trying to steal a nap. He turned back to the kid, "it depends on who is running this ship. It could be a merchant from England or a pirate vessel from the Caribbean." He paused as the kid winced. "What's your name?" He softened his voice, feeling bad for the kid. "How old are you?"

"Name's Blaine Foster," he whispered. "I think I'm eighteen, not real sure."

"Do you have parents?" Jim asked again. The young man shook his head no. "What do you do for work? You live in Washington?"

"I live wherever I can find food," Blaine said, shrugging. "I was stocking shelves in a store for an old man. He won't miss me and won't miss feeding me, neither."

Jim took a deep breath and continued, "What I am going to say might sound crazy to you but you are exactly what these ships, whether it's a merchant or a pirate ship, are looking for. A young man with no ties to life on land. This actually could work out for you." Blaine's face tipped up, brightening, "you just have to do what they say, no questions asked. If they say jump, then jump. You will learn their trade and see the world." He waved a hand, motioning the boy closer to him.

"I guess," Blaine said, sliding his butt closer to sit next to Jim. "Have you worked on a ship before?" He leaned closer now, his face eager.

Jim shook his head no, "I was in the war but I know the army life. This won't be that different, I suppose. I would rather get back to my own life in Washington, and I will, eventually." He nodded toward Artie, who was now quietly snoring, his chin touching his chest. "As you can see, my friend Artemus, is deeply concerned with our predicament. But we could be in here for a few hours. Getting more rest might be a good idea." He stopped as the pacing man stepped past them again.

"You shouldn't be filling the boy's head with crazy stories of hope," he snarled, "they will have to bring us all back to shore, any shore. This is kidnapping, I tell you, and I won't put up with it."

"Well I'm sure if you explain your situation to the Captain, he will concede to your point of view," Jim snapped. "Just don't stand next to me while you discuss it, in case he shoots you with an old blunderbuss."

"What's a blunderbuss," Blaine asked, looking from Jim to the pacing man.

"Shotgun," Jim said, irritated as the man walked past the end of his nose. "Wishing I had one myself." The man turned to shake a finger at Jim, opening his mouth to snarl something back when keys jangled outside the door. "Show's on, Artemus, break a leg." He reached out to smack his friend's feet, knocking him sideways slightly. He jumped to his feet and stood in front of his partner, as Artie yawned and slowly climbed to his feet. "Stand next to me, Blaine, and do exactly what I do." He stole a quick look as Blaine nodded; the younger man's face had gone white. Jim sensed Artie standing just behind his back, as the door opened.

"Pirates would be exciting," Artie whispered in Jim's ear.

"Don't cause trouble," Jim growled over his shoulder as a young man stepped into the room.

The man's loose and non-descript clothing offered no clue as to the ship's purpose. The sailor's eyes darted around the room, noticing all four men inside. He stepped back into the hall, beyond the door, and barked out, "On your feet and move topside, on the double! Captain's waitin' on you!"

tbc


	2. Chapter 2 Greetings from the Captain

Chapter 2. Greetings from the Captain

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"MOVE!"

The big hands slammed Jim in the chest, knocking him backwards into the wooden railing. Jim's body tensed but managed to control his anger, his hands stiff at his thighs. " _Just like military training, all right,_ " he thought to himself. " _Don't react. Don't look up."_ Keeping his body still and unmoving, he tried to watch the other men around him by leaning over slightly and peering out of the corner of his eyes. The young boy, Blaine, stayed close to his left side. His face was white and his eyes wide with bewilderment, but he was keeping silent and looking at the deck.

"MOVE!"

Artie was shoved backwards next, crushing into Jim's right shoulder. Another man was shoved into him, as the group of men were lined up against the railing. Jim stole a look at his friend, feeling reassured with his partner at his side. Artie half turned, as if looking around the ship, to give Jim a quick wink. Jim suppressed a smile, knowing his partner could adjust and blend into any situation. This crew would be surprised to know how well Artie could 'act' like a sailor.

Jim froze as a man approached him. Staring down at his bare feet, he felt uneasy without his tall boots on. The man in front of him towered over him and wore a brace of pistols tucked into leather loops and coat pockets. A wide leather belt with a double row of ammunition was wrapped around his waist. A reddish beard hung down his chest and Jim felt the dark eyes glaring at him. He had noticed earlier that the man seemed to be a leader but he doubted he was the Captain.

"Well this is a poor group of men!" The voice bellowed down onto Jim's bent head. "Short, scrawny, weak looking," the voice continued, as the man began to pace in front of the group. "I don't think I should even call you men! I will call you dogs!" The other sailors gathered behind the man roared with laughter. "But we will spend the afternoon getting better acquainted. I am sure you all want to know where you are and what you are doing here." He wandered to the end of the line and shoved a man in the chest as the other sailors cheered him on. "My name is Stone. I'm the First Mate on this ship. And this ship is named The Anguish. And each and everyone one of you are now sailors!" The sailors laughed as the new men looked nervously around. "Your Captain's name is Turner, and a fair man he is. Now you will give me your names and my scribe here," he said, smacking a young man in the shoulder, "young Charlie, will write it in the Captain's ledger book." He stopped walking in front of the man on the far end of the line. "Name!"

"Smith," the man said. He was dressed in plain clothing; worn denim pants and a torn denim shirt. The man looked up with sad, tired eyes, but stayed silent.

"Any jobs you good at, Smith?" The man paused and shook his head no. "You are a dog, Smith, a dog of a man." With a shove, he moved on to the next man, and the next, moving down the line. Eventually he reached the large man that had been in Jim's small room when he awoke.

"Name!" the first mate barked.

"My name is Holliday and I want to see the Captain! I demand to be brought back to…" Suddenly a heavy hand slapped him across the face. The man fell heavily against the man next to him. "I demand to.." a second slap sent him sprawling to the deck.

The mate's boot rose over Holliday's face, "any other demands?" The man shook his head no but was clearly angry at the treatment. The mate stepped back while sailors dragged Holliday to his feet and pushed him again to the railing. "So Mr. Holliday, are you good at anything besides making foolish demands?" The man glared and finally shook his head no. The mate moved on to the others. After a while he was standing in front of Jim.

"You," Stone growled, leaning over Jim, "damn short for a sailor on my ship." He raised his hands to shove Jim back further. Jim tightened his leg muscles and abdomen just as the big hands slammed him in the chest. He didn't budge and the big man's eyes widened slightly in surprise. With a roar, he stepped back and raised his hand, swinging a long back hand at his face. Jim leaned his head back just as the hand passed by his nose. The man snarled and grabbed Jim's shirt, dragging him forward from the line. Jim grabbed the huge wrists and tried to twist away but his bare feet were lifted off the deck.

"Mr. Stone," a man's calm but firm voice came from above. "I don't believe that's necessary." A man in a tall hat and long, black frock coat stood on a higher, smaller deck on the point of the ship. "Please return to the questioning." He turned and walked away, not waiting to see if his words were being followed.

"Aye, Captain," the first mate said. He glared down at Jim's upturned, angry face and shoved him back into the railing. "Name!"

"West," Jim said, quickly returning his gaze to the floor.

The big man took a step closer, his coat touching the end of Jim's nose. "Any talents or trades that will be of use to the ship and the men aboard her," he snarled, hands on his hips as he leaned closer.

"No," Jim said firmly, still keeping his eyes down.

The first mate glared for another moment and moved on to Artemus. "Name!"

"Gordon," Artie said quickly, also keeping his eyes down, quickly falling into the routine of the military; never look an officer in the eye.

"Any talents or," Stone growled, obviously not liking what he saw. His eyes moved up and down Artie's clean clothing, including the deep yellow shirt. Then he looked at Artie's perfectly neat hair. He stepped to the side to grab Artie's right arm, pulling his hand forward. "Book man, I'd say!" The sailors shouted and jeered as Artie's eyebrows rose in surprise. "Look at the delicate fingers and clean nails. Looks like my mother's hand." The mate's face suddenly darkened again and he snarled, grabbing Artie by the shirt front. He pulled him close, spitting on his face as he yelled, "if I need anyone to do some paperwork, I'll get you to do it!" He laughed again, pushing Artie back against the rail and stepped to the next man.

Artemus shook his arm and took a deep breath, turning slightly to catch Jim's look. He gave his partner a half smile, seeing his friend's blue eyes were worried and his fists clenched at his sides. He grinned and shook his head slightly, knowing Jim had been about to pounce if the mate had gotten more violent. Jim gave a short nod and they both turned as the Captain reappeared on the upper deck.

"Gentlemen," The Captain's voice rang out over the lower decks, crowded with sailors, old and new. "I want to welcome all you newcomers to the ship Anguish. You are, I am sure, very surprised to be here. I assure you, this work will be rewarding to you. Whatever life you had before today is now over. You have a new life and new work, here, among us. I have been the Captain for many years. Mr. Stone, the First Mate, has been with me for the past five years now." He paused, nodding to the mate, as Stone puffed out his chest and the older sailors jeered in good humor. "This ship is one of the last of its kind and you will be learning an old but important task. This is a whaler."

Jim and Artie exchanged another quick look as the men nearby became agitated. A few voices shouted out with No's as the men began shaking fists. The crew quickly moved in with punches and shoves, crushing the new men together in a tight ball. Blaine was pushed into Jim's back as the two agents stood close, shoulders touching.

"This is crazy," Artie growled under his breath so only Jim could hear.

"We just need to play ball for a while," Jim hissed back. "Something will happen, it always does." He turned to Blaine, "stay calm and keep quiet," he said, his deep voice reassuring the younger man.

The Captain waited for the uproar to die down and then continued. "I am also sure that in your previous life, whatever it was, you have seen good, clean whale oil being replaced by the filthy new crude petroleum oils," his voice became bitter and he spit his words, "the black smoke and stench filling the air of homes and villages. It is the ruination of many whaling companies. But we are from Nantucket and whale oils are still valued. The Anguish is one of the few ships to still hunt the sperm whales. You will learn a trade that has been valued from many, many years ago." He paused again as the men's voices protested.

"Well that figures," Artie sighed, "I am kidnapped, forced to work on a ship at sea, and I have to learn a dying trade." Jim rolled his eyes but stayed silent. "I guess I can study different voices and mannerisms."

"There ya go," Jim snapped, shoving a man's elbow out of his stomach, "consider it research."

The Captain cleared his voice, motioning his hand for quiet. "Now I want to also explain our schedule and how this ship operates. I run a tight ship. Everyone has a job and everyone will do their job, whether in sickness or in health. We carry a minimum of supplies, stopping for food and water as we need it at islands in familiar seas. We follow the whales as they move in their traditional migratory routes, sometimes in warm waters and sometimes in cold. We will be out to see for a year or more…"

"Holly Shit," Jim snarled, as the group of new men erupted in jeers and shouts of No! "A year, an entire year? Before what?" He stood, mouth hanging open in shock.

"I don't know," Artie said, his chest tightening in despair. "Before we return to Nantucket? This ship must stop in other countries for supplies." He rubbed a hand over his face, "we have to get word back what happened, where we are…"

"Supplied at Islands," Jim said, shaking his head. "This is bad, partner." He reached a hand up to grasp Artie's shoulder. "We'll manage something. We have to. But to be gone for a year? Richmond will give my train to those two damn girls." Artie raised an eyebrow at that comment. "And my horse! What about my horse?"

"You're right, Jim," Artie said, suddenly trying to stifle a laugh, "we need to escape to save your train and your horse." He raised an eyebrow, "And Sophie too, she'll be lost without you."

Jim snorted, pushing against the men in front of him who continued to crush him back against the railing. "I don't know, just keep your ears and eyes open, and see what we can find out. It's the usual game."

Sailors were suddenly pulling the group apart, and pushing men into smaller divided groups. The first mate went from group to group, barking orders. Jim and Artie, followed by Blaine, made sure they stayed together in the new, smaller group.

The Captain hollered down, "Mr. Stone will now assign daily tasks to each group. The work will be easy at first but then become more complicated as we assess your intelligence and abilities. No one will be given a task they are not capable of but the higher the responsibility, the more rewarding the work will be on a personal level." His voice droned on as the first mate and the cabin boy, scratching notes in the ledger, spoke quietly to the first group.

Artie and Jim exchanged a hard look, nervous about this next step. Artie looked up at the tall masts that reached far above him, thick with sails and tied together with a myriad of ropes. Then down at the varied levels of decks, with racks holding tools he had never seen and could only wonder at their use. He shook his head in despair as the first mate stepped in front of them. He watched Jim, standing tight against his side, square his shoulders in an attempt to appear taller as Stone began barking out his orders. " _Oh, great, this is worse than I imagined_ ," Artie thought to himself.

tbc


	3. Chapter 3 Drudgery

Chapter 3. Drudgery

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"It's an important job," Jim growled, as he wiped the wooden seat with a grey tattered cloth. Artie chuckled behind him, as he worked at tying a new rag to the end of a rope, and tossed it over the wooden railing nearby. Holliday stood, fists on hips, glaring down at Jim. "Just think how dirty this would be if no one cleaned it. All jobs are important."

"I will not work for these people," Holliday snarled. He glanced at the sailor who was in charge of their group. Seeing the man relaxing on the deck ladder, in the sun, still ignoring them, he continued, "we need to fight them, force them to return is to the mainland."

"Ya," Jim said, sighing tiredly, straightening his back. "I'll get right on that. I don't have a gun, I can't steer this ship if I did control it, and I sure as hell don't know what direction America is! Do you?" He turned as Artie stood behind him, "maybe you do, in some secret scientific way?" He paused, hopefully. "Steer by the clouds?"

Artie laughed, "Really? Steer by the clouds? Which direction is home; North or South?" He squinted up at the blue sky. "I don't see any clouds anyway. Besides," he said, waving his arms to the sides. "we should be thinking of this as a grand adventure. Learn a new trade. People pay money for trips like this."

Jim glared at him, "this is not a vacation. I would be relaxing with beautiful women, not spending it with you while cleaning the head." He threw the dirty cloth at Artie, as he friend ducked. "Idiot," he laughed. He turned back to Holliday, "Look, I'm not in charge of you. Do what you want. Take it up with the first mate or the Captain." He stepped away from the angry man to scoop up his cloth again and move on to the next wooden seat, wiping dark crud from the hole's edge.

Artie walked nearby, wiping the railing and looking out at the water. "We certainly are out to sea," he said quietly, leaning near Jim. "Besides steering by cloud formations, do you have any other ideas?"

Jim kept wiping, absently, as he thought. "We don't know where we are. We can't communicate with anyone for help. And we can't get near the Captain to explain who we are and request passage back." He paused, to look up at Artie, "I think your idea is more feasible at this point. Relax and enjoy the ride." Artie started to respond but the loud, booming voice of the first mate came up behind them.

"What a wonderful job you all have done." Stone made a point of walking around the upper deck that housed the head area with six wooden seats. The holes emptied directly over the edge of the ship where the body waste would drain into the sea. He picked up one of the ropes from over the railing, pulling the length up, until he reach the wiping cloth. He looked at it, inspecting it, and dropped it back into the water again. "I think I have found what this group is good at! Cleaning!" He bellowed, hands on hips, as he looked at each man. "You can only work your way up from here!" He took a step back and pointed down the shop toward the other end. "Move! I will show you the next area that needs cleaning." He waited for the group to file past, moving down the ship's ladder, and gather on the lower deck. As Stone moved past the sailor in charge of the group, he grabbed the now alert young man by the shoulder, "and if I catch you sleeping on duty again, I will clean the floor with you!" He tossed the man off the upper deck onto the lower, the limp body flying down over the ladder. The man landed heavily onto the wooden deck. Artie quickly grabbed the man's elbow and helped him to his feet.

"I thank you," the sailor said to the agent, clearly surprised. "I'm all right, mate."

Artie nodded and everyone froze as Stone approached again, "railings and equipment, I want it all polished! Maybe tomorrow you can move up to mending the nets!" Stone stormed off, leaving the group to stare at each other.

"Is he always like that," Artie asked, watching the first mate move to another group, shoving and yelling at the men who were mending nets on the main deck.

The sailor nodded, nervously watching Stone. "My name is Rowdy," the man said. He was a thin, wiry man, covered with tattoos. His clothes hung like rags and he seemed to shake constantly.

"Artie," Artemus said. "How long have you been on this ship?"

"This ship," Rowdy said, rubbing his chin as the thought, "a few seasons now. Been at sea all my life though. Might say I was born on the sea," he chuckled. "But this is a good ship. Only get in trouble if you're in a fight. The Captain hates fights, wants us to be like a big family." He nodded quickly, "ya, good ship. We make money from catching the big fish, we do. And the ship is good and solid."

Jim walked to them, "Jim," he said, holding his hand out, "Rowdy," the man said, shaking hands, "good to know you. You two do good work. Captain sees it, he sees everything." He nodded again, "it will get better, after a while. But supper is next for us. It gets dark fast here on the water." They looked out of the rolling waves, as the sun sunk near the horizon, throwing a pink hue to the water's surface. "We had good waves today, we made good steady speed. Soon you will learn how to run the ship. It's a good life," Rowdy continued on as the two agents exchanged a look. A bell rang and other sailors hollered to the groups of men around the ship. "Its supper time for us," Rowdy said, nodding toward the main ladder to the bottom of the ship.

"Good," Artie sighed, "I'm starving. Where do we go?"

"The mess is in the bottom of the ship, closer to the food storage areas," Rowdy said, leading his group. "Not everyone can eat at the same time because there's not much room down there. Our group is the first today though." He ducked as they all passed through a low doorway and down a steep ladder. The hall was dark, coming in from the blinding sunlight. "The food isn't as good as it was before…" he paused for a moment and the continued, "and sometimes we run out of food all together, especially if you're in the last group to eat." Jim and Artie exchanged a nervous glance. "But poor Charlie tries," he sighed.

"I thought Charlie ran the books," Artie said, following Rowdy's heels.

"He does that too," the sailor said, nodding, "but he just writes in the book and runs them back to the Captain. Most of the time he is trying to prepare something for us to eat. We all miss the ole cook." They finally ducked under another low doorway and entered a small room with a low ceiling. Long tables crowded the room with a jumble of old, broken chairs. In the back of the room was another long table with a large pot. Charlie, the young boy that had earlier helped the first mate record their names, was now standing behind the pot holding an enormous, long handled ladle. His eyes looked down, and shifted nervously.

"Hey, Charley," Rowdy said, "how'd it go with the Cap?"

"I gave him the book and brought him his dinner first," Charlie said, "he seemed happy. Wants to find another big fish!" The boy grinned as they approached. "I got some ole fish in this here soup too. From the other day's catch."

Artie peered into the pot curiously as the boy stirred with the ladle. Jim handed him a bowl with a silent, warning look. Artie took the bowl and held it while Charley filled it with a steaming liquid. He moved to a table, following Rowdy, carefully holding the bowl so it didn't spill. He sat down and grabbed a wide spoon from a basket on the table.

Jim dropped into a chair across from his friend as the others sat nearby. Additional groups of men filed in behind them and began filling the chairs. Men talked jovially, trading stories and jokes, as they stirred the soup. Some hollered encouragement to Charlie while a few moaned and complained. The complainers were quickly shouted down. Jim bent over his bowl and eagerly spooned the soup into his mouth, ignoring the people around him.

"How is it," Artie asked cautiously, still stirring and peering at bits of unidentifiable objects floating to the surface of the cloudy liquid.

"What's it matter," Jim growled under his breath. "It's supper. Just eat it."

Artie tasted it, sipping off the edge of the spoon. He grimaced, "this is awful. That fish he used must have been old."

Jim paused, his spoon halfway to his mouth, the tired blue eyes peering through his sweaty hair as he glared at his friend. "Just eat it." He growled again.

"This could make us sick," Artie protested, still whispering, "it could even kill us if its…"

"I'm about to kill you myself," Jim snapped, his eyes darting sideways to see if anyone was watching them. "Now shut it. And eat, because I don't see any other course coming after the soup. Do you?" He held Artie's eyes until his friend relented and began to eat his supper, obviously chocking down the foul tasting liquid.

The small bowls were soon empty, the meager meal not even beginning to appease their hunger. They sat across from each other, both stealing quick glances around the room. Blaine was a few chairs down from them at the same table, eagerly licking the inside of his empty bowl. "How are you doing, Blaine?" Jim nodded as the young man turned to him.

"Ok, I guess," Blaine said, putting the bowl down. "That was good. I never had fish in a soup before. Do you think they will give us more food tomorrow?" The boy stole a glance behind his shoulder as men walked past.

Artie and Jim exchanged a look. Jim nodded, "I am sure they will feed us something."

Artie shook his head slowly, staring at his empty bowl. His stomach growled loudly. "I guess it's all in your point-of-view. I wonder if all these men were brought here against their will." Jim rubbed his face, unable to speak or even look at his friend.

Blaine grinned, not seeming to notice Artie's depressing observation, "this has been really good so far. I like this ship and they have good people here. If they give me more food tomorrow, that will all right with me." He turned his eager face to the main table as the young cook, Charlie, was busy spooning soup as more men crammed into the room.

"Ok, we need to go topside again to make our way to our quarters," Rowdy said, gathering his group. "I will show you where you'll bunk and then we have to make sure that area is clean." The men all stood and followed him back up the steep ladder to the deck.

"Rowdy," Jim asked quietly, as the group paused on the main deck. "Do we eventually get our clothes and boots back? Wallets?" Rowdy stared at him for a moment and then shook his head no. Jim took a long breath and nodded, knowing it wasn't this young man's fault.

They group walked across the decks and down another ladder, descending through the decks of the large ship. On a level lower than the mess, only lit with a couple of oil lamps, were small rooms on either side of a narrow hall. The inside on each room was deep in shadow but bunks could be seen. "These are the rooms we're using at night." Rowdy stood in the hall and waved a hand toward the two opposing rooms. "We are working days now, while another crew sleeps here. Then we switch, and that crew works at night."

"We don't get our own beds," Artie said quietly, obviously exhausted.

"There isn't room on the ship," Rowdy explained, "and why have a bed be empty all day?"

"And we don't have to share the bed?" Blaine looked eagerly into a room, "and I can choose any bed I want?" He turned to look at Jim.

"Go ahead, grab one," Jim said, turning to Artemus, "different point-of-view." He shrugged, and turned back to Rowdy. "Did you mention we need to do more tonight?"

"We work until the bells ring ten times," he said. "We need to stay down here and do more cleaning. The Captain likes a clean ship. He wants the wood to shine so we can polish until the bell rings again. Then we are done for the day. And we can't keep the lamps on after our last bell so we need to be settled for the night." Rowdy handed out more rags from a nearby pile and the men moved to the many crooks and crannies of the wooden inner hull to dust and polish the wood. Before long a bell rang and Rowdy, who also cleaned with them, called out to stop.

"You can put the rags back and grab a cup," he said, nodding to a shelf of tin cups. He stood near a cupboard and opened a locked door with a key, revealing a small keg. "The Cap says a cup of rum before bed makes you sleep. Otherwise, he won't let us drink. He thinks it causes fights." The men lined up with their cups and Rowdy filled each one. "Just toss them back on the shelf and I will put out the lamps."

Jim gulped the small amount of rum; being used to drinking large amounts of beer and whisky, it barely quenched his thirst. He walked into the room and dropped onto a bed. The small room had four beds, two on a wall, made of wooden planks covered with a thin cloth mat. A blanket was tossed onto each one, looking like the past resident had only just left. He put his hand on the mat but didn't feel any leftover warmth.

Blaine followed him in and stood in the room, sipping the rum. "I've never had this drink." He sipped again, "it makes my stomach warm," he chuckled. He looked up at the upper bunk, "could I sleep in the one up there?" He nodded toward the bunk above Jim.

"Sure," Jim said, smiling at the kid's eagerness at everything. "Blaine, I'm relieved you had a good day. I think you'll do well here." He grinned at Artie as the kid climbed up the wooden frame of the bed and dropped onto the bunk. "And what bed would you like, partner?" Artie moved slowly, with a long sigh to the lower bunk opposite. "Tired?"

"I don't mind pretending to be a desperado or a homeless vagrant," Artie whispered, his face drawn with exhaustion, "but doing this work for real is exhausting. And I require more food than this."

Jim slapped his gut, "ya, I hear you on the food." He picked up the blanket and shook it out. "You have to admit, though, that we have slept in worse places. But I think I've had enough for a lifetime already."

Artie lay down and stared at the bunk above him, without seeing it. He continued in a low voice, "I'd be with her right now, dancing, eating in a nice restaurant in the city." He let out another long sigh, "she must be wondering what the hell happened."

Jim lay down on his bunk and wrapped the blanket around him. "Everyone must be wondering what happened. But this won't last forever. Just play their game. Beside, Jeremy knew where we were and should be able to figure it out. It's just finding the right ship. It just takes time." The light became dimmer as each lamp was extinguished in the hallway. As darkness fell, Rowdy moved into their room and climbed into the bunk above Artie. Jim soon fell asleep, exhausted, the movement of the ship rocking him.

]

Next morning...

]

{

Artemus squinted in the morning bright sunlight as he peered at the large, dry crackers Rowdy had handed him. "This is breakfast?" He muttered to Jim as their group stood, crowded together on the main deck. He twisted his shoulders to loosen his shirt from his back where the cloth had stuck overnight; his clothes were stiff with day-old sweat. "I think there are bugs or worms in their flour." He looked up to see his friend's blue eyes glaring at him. "But I'll just think of them as tiny breakfast sausages." He chomped down on a cracker as Jim nodded.

"Good idea," Jim laughed, stuffing a cracker into his mouth. He swirled his mug of watery cider vinegar in the cup. "Vinegar instead of coffee isn't what I ordered either. This restaurant would never make it in Washington." He paused as Blaine approached them.

"Did you get three crackers?" Blaine held his hand out, showing them both his food. "Three! Imagine that. I never ate before I worked, no siree," he said, grinning. "And I don't know what this drink is but its good. Reminds me of switchel I drank in hay fields in the summer." He put a cracker in his mouth and chomped down, nodding. "Spoiled, that's what I am."

Artie nodded to the boy, "and did you hear the best part? They are going to teach us how to fix the fish nets. That's a good task to learn." He winked at Jim, as the boy's eyes widened in excitement.

Rowdy approached the group, calling the others closer. Holliday, grumbling as usual, stood slightly apart. "We are going to work with an old man today named Tuffy. He is very good at mending nets and sails. He'll show you what to do." He led them to a smaller deck that was higher than the main deck, underneath a large mast. An old man with a deeply wrinkled face was sitting on a pile of rags surrounded with tangles of nets. "Tuffy, I got a new gang for you," he said, standing aside.

Tuffy squinted up at them, nodding and smiling, showing a mouthful of missing teeth. "Oh, by Jiminy, they look like a quick bunch. The last group was all thumbs!" He cackled and rocked with laughter at his own joke. He patted the rags next to him, "take a seat, no cleaning today, this is much better than cleaning the head like an old woman." He laughed again as the men all sat near him, making a lose circle. Jim and Blaine were on one side with Artie and Holliday on the other.

"How long have you been on this ship," Jim asked, trying to start a conversation. " _Anything to get more information about this situation_ ", he thought to himself.

"Many a year," the old man said, nodding, "many a year. Me and the Captain go way back. I've been mending nets for him many a year. We had big crews in those days, everyone wanted to go to sea. It's a good life. Now, how they find men, is waste of time. If a man don't want to be here, he won't work, simple as that." He handed out nets to everyone. "Now watch how I tie these loose ends up."

Jim and Artie exchanged a look over the old man's head, understanding the reference to finding men. Artie, curious as usual, quickly found himself watching the man closely and following his moves. Artie's nimble fingers, and experience at sewing, made it easy for him to learn the art of weaving the ropes together. Jim also was able to follow along easily and then turned to help Blaine.

"Let's switch seats," he said to the young man, "you can watch what he does more easily." He stood and waited for Blaine to move to his spot next to Tuffy. He turned to look over the railing at the rolling waves, seeing nothing but water as far as he could see. He put his hands on his hips and stretched his back, turning to look up the main mast to the small walk way far above. A man stood at the far height walking a few steps on the small deck, keeping a look out.

"You!" The first mate bellowed down from an upper deck, pointing at Jim. "You are to be working! Who gave you permission to get up?" He stormed down the ladder and stomped to Jim, who stood now, back against the railing, staring at the deck.

Artie's hands paused in the weaving, his fingers instinctively gripping the material, ready to wrap the net around the first mate if his partner needed help. His eyes darted around for weapons or something to distract him and allow Jim to escape. He pulled his boots in close to his body so he could jump up quickly.

"You," first mate Stone yelled, slamming an open palm against Jim's chest. "What's your name?"

"West," Jim said, not looking up. His body was rigged, hands in fists, bracing for another strike.

Stone leaned closer, his head hanging over Jim, "I've got my eye on you, West. Now get back to work." He stepped back and pointed at Tuffy. Jim quietly moved around him and sat back on the netting, next to Blaine. The young man's eyes were wide with alarm as he watched Stone move away.

"I thought he was going to throw you overboard," Blaine whispered.

"So did I," Artie growled, glaring at Stone's back. Holliday sat a few feet from Artemus, glaring at Jim but staying silent. His eyes shifted from Jim to Stone, observing the argument.

Jim picked up the netting and began pulling at knots, untangling the snarled weave. He let out a long sigh, "it was all I could do not to belt him but I figured it would just make it worse. It's his ship."

Tuffy looked at Jim, "you mustn't ever hit the first mate. Don't even speak of it." He stole a glance at Stone, who was now yelling at a group of men cleaning the head, and shuddered "The last man who stuck him…"he paused, shuddering, "well, it didn't end well. Many of us feel as you do but…"

Jim leaned closer, past Blaine, who was now more interested in the weaving pattern, "what happened? Someone punched Stone and then what?"

Tuffy closed his eyes and whispered, "the first mate cut the man's right hand off and threw the hand overboard out to the sharks." He opened his eyes and looked between Jim and Artie, "it was horrible. The poor man, screaming, and the blood," he shuddered again. "He lived, somehow. But he couldn't work. He was finally sent away onto another ship."

"Another ship?" Artie asked, his face gone white. He stole another glance at Stone to make sure the man wasn't watching them. "What other ship? And what did they do with him?"

Tuffy shrugged again, "no way to know what happened to him. He was sent away. Its' what happens if you don't work or are a ruffian. The Captain has no need of you so he sends you away, usually on a supply ship." He shook his head, "I heard tell he left a man on an island once, an island with cannibals and head hunters, but that's probably just talk."

Artie and Jim exchanged a worried look as Holliday huffed, "so men can be moved to these supply ships and brought back to shore? I thought as much, it just takes money, I'll wager."

Tuffy winked at Jim and nodded toward Holliday, "like 'im, he'll be gone soon. He won't last on this ship but the next one may be no better." He leaned over his work again, cackling under his breath.

Artie nodded, muttering, "like my Aunt Maud always said, it's no use jumping from the frying pan into the fire." Tuffy nodded in agreement.

"Are there ways to get off?" Jim asked quietly, "to get to a shore and passage back to America?"

Tuffy laughed, "you mean to tell me that you don't like it here? Wait until you start to work the sails, learn the helm, and feel the ship turn under ya hand. It's a magical thing, so it is. And then," Tuffy said, looking out between the rails to the sea, "then wait until we find the great sperm whale. Then you will know excitement beyond your dreams."

Artie rolled his eyes and went back to working the threads, weaving the nets together. He couldn't look at the disappointment in his friend's eyes. " _There has got to be a way_ ," he thought, absently weaving as well as Tuffy now.

tbc


	4. Not Adjusting Well

Chapter 4. Not Adjusting Well

]

[

Jim squinted into the fog. The shape came again, briefly, as the clouds fought with the rolling waves to obscure his view. He leaned against the railing, the cleaning rag clutched in one hand while he rubbed his eyes with the other. He blinked again as the shape was outlined against a darker cloud. As the ship dropped into a deep well between waves, he turned quickly to Artemus, who worked nearby.

"Hey, partner," his hissed, "come here. Quick."

Artie straightened and hurried to his friend's side, recognizing the urgency in his voice. "What?" He stole a glance over his shoulder for the first mate as he stood at the rail, pretending to polish the already-gleaming wood. "spot something in this soup?"

Jim pointed a hand, "keep an eye out at about ten o'clock when we get to the top of this wave. It will only show for a split second so don't blink." While Artie watched, Jim turned to look up at the man walking the small deck at the far top of the mast. Even that man was lost in the haze of the foggy morning.

"It's a ship," Artie whispered. "But why isn't anyone calling out?" He glanced around at the busy men working at various jobs on the deck. Another group was weaving at the nets with Tuffy and still another was cleaning the head. Rowdy worked nearby, farther down the railing, absorbed in the ritual polishing.

"It's his job," Jim said, pointing a thumb up the mast at the man on watch. "Should we tell someone?" Just as he spoke, with both of them squinting now into the clammy mist, the ship behind them passed a small opening in the fog. It was clearly a large ship with three masts, with all the sails out full. A gust of wind stretched the pennant out and an odd white shape was clearly seen against a rectangular black background. "Oh, for Christ's sake, there's your pirate ship!" Jim hissed, turning, as Artie blanched, gripping the railing. "Rowdy!" Jim waved to the young man, motioning him to come closer, "there's a ship behind us." The young man moved to the railing to stand between them. Only the fog was seen now as a thick area blanketed the water.

"You couldn't see London if you was going up the River Thames, I'd say," Rowdy declared, laughing. "You new blokes are always thinking that you can see better than the old dog in the crow's nest. That's his job up there," Rowdy said, nodding his head toward the man at the top of the mast.

"I know what I saw," Jim snapped, irritated at his word being doubted, squinting into the fog. "It was a ship as big as this one with a black flag with something white on it. I couldn't make out the shape."

Rowdy yelped, "flying the Jolly Roger too?" he laughed again and then choked as the fog parted, showing a brief glimpse of the ship behind them, the black flag snapping in the sudden breeze. "Holly Christ! Mr. Stone!" He turned and ran down the length of the decks, yelling and waving his arms.

Stone waited, hands on hips, obviously irritated, but still listening. Suddenly the first mate, and many other men, all ran to the railing, peering through the mist. As the fog parted again and the ship was seen, the man in the crows nest hollered out, "Ship off the port side!"

"We see it, you bloody idiot," Stone yelled up at the man, "we all see it now!" He turned to the crew, "man the guns, get to stations." He hurried to the ship's wheel and pushed the helm's man out of the way. The ship turned slightly and the wind filled the sails, quickly accelerating the ship forward.

Men ran everywhere, scurrying to the sides of the ship with long swords and spears. Artie and Jim exchanged a look as Blaine moved closer to Jim's side. "Swords?" Jim snarled, "don't they have guns? What is this, the 1700s?" He turned to look behind them as the pirate ship fell behind. "And shouldn't a pirate ship be faster than us?"

Artie watched the sails of their ship and then looked at the pirate ship, "look at their sails Jim," he said, "the pirate ship has small sails and many have holes. The wind is more effective against our larger sails. We seem to be easily out pacing them." He turned to look at the men nearby, holding a variety of old looking weapons, "antiques", he muttered. "We need to ask how they protect this ship."

"Yes," Jim grinned, "good thing they invited us on board. We could do some hand-to-hand training with the crew. Maybe even discuss the advantages of modern firearms over knives and sharp sticks."

Rowdy hurried up to them as the ship continued to pull away. "If that ship had gotten close enough for grappling hooks, and boarded us, it would have been a bad fight for sure." He watched as the pirate ship fell back even farther, barely showing in the fog now. "We'll have to watch for a while now so they don't sneak up on us again." He glared up the mast, "damn Wolvertin, blind as my old grandmother!" He shook his fist up at the crow's nest. "Need someone up there that can see!"

Stone moved from the ship's wheel to the upper deck, looking down at the men, "the Captain is going to speak. Everyone up front and center!" The crew moved from the rails to the center of the main deck. Rowdy moved his group to join the crowd as the Captain appeared on the quarter deck above them.

"Men," the captain said, his clear voice easily heard over the loud flap of the sails, "the pirate ship is a silent danger that is always with us in these waters. All of us must always be vigilant, especially on these foggy mornings. The pirate hides like a black panther in the forest. Whether working, hunting, or sailing from one port to the other, we must always be vigilant." He paused, looking out of the crowd. "Mr. Stone," he said, "tell me the name of the man who saw the pirate first."

The first mate stepped closer, standing on the top step of the ladder, between the Captain and the crew. "It was young Rowdy, so it was!" The crew cheered and turned to all point at Rowdy as the young man was pulled and pushed forward. He was finally forced up the ladder to stand just below Stone. He was clearly frustrated and yelling at the men. Finally, the crew fell back and he was able to speak.

"No, sir," Rowdy said, "no, Mr. Stone, I will not take credit for what I have not done!" He turned on the ladder to point across the crush of men, "It was one of the new men, sir," he said, looking to the Captain "It was West who saw the Pirate ship first!" The crew cheered again, even louder and turned to Jim.

Artie pushed his friend forward, into the outstretched arms of the boisterous men, "good job, partner," he said, slapping Jim's back. Jim silently allowed himself to be pushed forward to the ladder, climbing up as Rowdy stepped back.

The Captain held out his hands as the crowd below him went silent. "West, it is a tradition on this ship that the man who first sees a whale, land, or a pirate ship to be awarded a special meal and a day of rest. This will be granted to you. I will also grant this to Rowdy since he has shown his true honesty in speaking for you." Rowdy clapped a friendly hand on Jim's shoulder as the Captain turned back to the crowd. "Seeing is the job of all of us, not just the man in the crow's nest. Now back to work all of you while I speak to these men."

The men dispersed and Rowdy, followed closely by Jim, moved up to the deck to stand in front of the Captain. Jim looked the man over briefly, noticing the long, chiseled features, dark hair with a touch of grey at the sides, and a tall, lean body. The man was much taller than Jim, as tall as Stone, but very thin. He looked the Captain in the eye and the man nodded to him before turning to the young man next to him.

"Rowdy", the Captain said, "you have been here for almost two years now. You have been very conscientious with your work. I think it's time Mr. Stone gave you additional duties to train in the work of capturing a whale in the longboats." Stone nodded, seemingly taking the directions amicably. "And you," the Captain said, "West, is it?" Jim nodded, standing at ease with his hands behind his back. "You are an enigma, my young man. Obviously you have spent time in the military," Jim blinked at that but stayed quiet, "and have spent some time on ships. I feel that given more time on this whaler, you will be a great asset to the crew. I will let you begin training with Rowdy in the longboats." He nodded to Stone and turned abruptly to descend another ladder and cross the ship's decks.

Stone turned to the two men, "so the Captain has his eye on you two, does he? Well so do I," he snarled suddenly, leaning closer to them. "This is a whaling ship, if you haven't heard, and that's how we make our money. And we make a lot of money, do you hear? And I don't want either of you two messing this up. So you will be watched by the other men and shown the ropes. But if I hear that either of you can't make the cut, its back to cleaning with you." He waved to another man and stepped back, pointing to another area of the ship. "Down you go to begin your training." Rowdy scurried ahead with Jim following more sedately, moving to join another group who were working with spears around a large black cauldron.

]

[

Later that afternoon…..

]

"How was my afternoon of rest?" Jim chuckled under his breath as he sat down across from Artemus in the mess room. "It was interesting; I have to admit, but not my idea of rest." He stirred his bowl of grey gruel, too starved to try to determine what it was, "I sharpened a rack of old throwing spears and scrubbed out giant, black cauldrons. And listened to how a whale is hunted down in the wooden long boats, speared, and dragged back to the ship. Then it's apparently cut up into large slices and the fat is boiled off in those cauldrons. The liquid oil is stored in vats in the bottom of the ship. When the vats are full, we sail back to Nantucket." He finished, looking up at Artie. "So there is an end to this exciting voyage but we have to kill enough whales to fill the vats."

Artie nodded, "I wonder how large these vats are. I suppose it's useless to ask how many whales that would be since some would be larger than others." He shook his head and looked down at his bowl. "You seem to have the same food as I do. I thought you were getting something special tonight, after your day of rest."

"The announcement of my special meal appears to be about as accurate as my restful afternoon was," Jim growled. Rowdy dropped next to him, grinning. "I take it you enjoyed the work today? Better than cleaning?"

Rowdy nodded, moving over on the bench as Blaine crowded in next to him. "It's a lot better than cleaning. Finally, after all these months, I get to learn the real work on this ship. Now we need to get you two moved over also," he said looking from Blaine to Artemus, "We will ask if you can join us and be trained to hunt in the longboats."

"What?" Artemus gasped, his eyes wide with surprise. "I'm not getting into one of those wooden rowboats and chasing down a whale! Don't mention my name. I'd be better at cooking in the galley with Charlie!"

The group burst into raucous laughter as Jim said, "Maybe you can man the cooking pots while we drag the dead whales back. We need to fill those jugs with oil, and it may take a few months, so we can get back to America."

"A few months?" Rowdy grinned, shaking his head. "Last time it took us almost two years before we got back to Nantucket to cash in. The Captain hates to go back to America because he loses half his crew. That's why we just got you all. We just emptied the barrels and cashed out, refitted, new crew," he continued. "No, we're good for at least three years 'cause we got even more barrels this time too, maybe even longer." He started gobbling his food in, oblivious to the panic his news had caused.

Jim and Artie stared at each other as Rowdy explained the Captain's plan. Artie began muttering "three years" over and over, shaking his head. "Jim, I can't live on this ship for three years! This is insane." As his voice increased Jim tried unsuccessfully to calm him. "Forget the work, the damned lack of food will kill me and another…", he paused as Stone walked up behind Jim, glaring down at him. Artie swallowed his last word but glared back at the first mate.

"Are you complaining?" Stone bellowed, leaning over Jim's head, sneering at Artie. "Maybe you didn't work up an appetite today. Maybe you need to be given tasks like cleaning the outer hull of this ship while we are underway! There must be barnacles that need scraping off; I hear tell from the Helm!"

A silence had fallen over the room of sailors, crammed into the low ceilinged mess, as they all sat frozen, watching the first mate. Jim's hand had tightened instinctively around his spoon's handle, ready to attack the first mate if he reached for his friend. He stole a glance behind him but only saw the wide chest as Stone stood directly behind his chair. He turned back to Artie as his friend drew a deep breath, and he readied himself, knowing his partner was at the end of his patient and a long argument was about to commence.

"Actually," Rowdy interrupted, his voice an octave higher than usual, "Gordon here was just telling us how he might help young Charlie to improve the food. He seems to know a thing or two about cooking, he was just saying." He nodded to Artie, his eyes desperate, "tell the first mate here what you was just telling us about how you wouldn't mind helping young Charlie in the galley."

Artie clamped his mouth shut, and looked to Rowdy and then to Jim. His eyes fell to Jim's hand and then back to his friend's eyes. He knew from Jim's grim determination that if a fight started, it might be to the death. He sighed and stood up, looking back at Stone. "I would be more than happy to aid Charlie in his cooking, if the young lad would accept my humble service in his galley." Stone took a step back as the entire room breathed a collected sigh of relief. Artie looked back down to Jim to see him give a short nod, putting the spoon back in his bowl.

"Charlie," Stone bellowed, "you have a volunteer!" He stomped away, pushing into men as he moved around the room.

Artie sat back down and quickly ate his food. Without looking up, he whispered, "what were you going to do with that spoon, Jim?" He stole a glance through the lock of hair dangling down his forehead, as he heard his friend chuckle.

"Dig his eyes out," Jim growled. "Good thing Rowdy was thinking faster than I was and saved Stone's vision." He looked up, "at least you should stay out of trouble in the galley. I won't have to wonder what you'll be up to when I am off whale hunting, right?"

Artie looked to either side of them, making sure everyone appeared to be in different conversations. He leaned across the table, whispering to Jim, "I was hoping that, as a cook, I could get to the Captain. Charlie said he brings food to the Captain's quarters himself before feeding the men. Could be the only opportunity we have for a private conversation."

Jim nodded, "I hope you can think of something convincing to tell him."

Artie smiled as he stood, "more than we are displeased at this golden opportunity to learn a dying vocation?" He walked away, moving to the main table to speak to Charlie, resting a hand on the young man's shoulder. Soon the lad was smiling and nodding, seemingly relieved at being give a helper.

{

}

Jim lowered the length of rope, hand over hand, feeling the rough fiber burn and pick at his palms. The men standing on either side of him grunted in effort too as the thick ropes lowered the heavy wooden long boat toward the ocean's surface. Block and tackle rattled and banged over their heads as the wooden boat swayed with the ship, banging and scraping against the great hull, as it dropped into a rolling wave. A wide woven rope mesh hung over the railing into the water, now securely stuck between the longboat and ship's hull.

Stone's loud voice drifted down on them through the fog, "don't get lost out there, we won't be waiting for you bastards!" Men nearby laughed and yelled encouragement as Jim, and the others in his group, scrambled over the side and climbed down the mesh netting to the boat. Jim reached the top edge of the wooden boat and watched it tilt and bang into the ship's side, timing a leap to the moving boat's bottom. Blaine climbed down next to him. The young man's eyes were wide with fear but he was silently following every move Jim was making. "Blaine, see how the edge of the boat is close and then moves away? We just need to time our jump. Loosen your grip, make sure your standing on your toes," he paused as Blaine adjusted his hands and feet, "and lean out and …" as the wooden boat slammed back into the ship, just inches below his bare feet, Jim pushed off sideways, dropping easily into the bottom of the long boat. "Simple. Now try it," he yelled up, waiting for the kid.

"Ok, here I go," Blaine yelled, jumping out. He landed on his feet near Jim and rolled to one side, as the long boat rolled. His face burst into a huge smile of surprise and relief, "I did it!" He pushed himself back to his feet as other men jumped down around them.

"Grab a seat", Rowdy yelled, joining them. "And grab an oar. We're going to try this here long boat out. We need to be good at rowing so we know how to when we are pursuing a whale. And we need to see how strong everyone is so we can form even pairs of men." He paused as all the sailors sat on the benches, the men along the ship pushing off the side. The long oars quietly cut into the rolling waves and the heavy boat slide quickly away from the larger ship. "Together, row, row, row…" Rowdy yelled out a cadence and the men soon were rowing efficiently in pairs. The second longboat appeared off the bow of the ship and moved in their direction. Rowdy waved to the boat as it drew near. "Let's see how fast we are!"

The men in the second boat yelled good natured insults as the two boats accelerated in parallel away from the sailing ship. Jim twisted his head around, stealing a look over his shoulder, to see if he could see the great wooden hull through the fog. The haze, however, was lifting in the sunshine and the ship was easily seen. He looked to his side, grinning at Blaine's eagerness and how the young man was watching him closely, matching his oar strokes. "Now we just need a whale!" The young man nodded excitedly as Rowdy yelled out the cadence again, "Row…row…row…"

]

[

"Ok, Charlie," Artemus said as his eyes gazed around the small galley. "Where is the food stored? We should take a close inventory so we can plan out what to cook. I have seen oatmeal and fish soup so far but there must be something else in here."

Charlie pointed at the narrow wooden door, "most everything is in there. For the crew to eat, anyway. But the Captain's food is in that ole trunk on the floor." He moved an old, stained tarp off from a metal trunk and pointed at the lock. "I have the key now. It's a secret, you can't tell the crew," he said, giving Artemus a stern look. "Cook told me when I started to help him and I got the key after, well…after I started doing the cooking work," he finished.

Artie thought for a minute, rubbing his chin, "so the Captain has his own food and you cook his food separately?" Charlie nodded, his young face looking worried. "And the crew doesn't know about this at all?" Charlie shook his head and shrugged. "Ok, your secret is safe," Artemus said, squeezing the young boy's shoulder. "Show me the food the crew eats and we will discuss the captain after." Charlie opened the tall wooden cupboard and began removing small wooden boxes and covered paper containers. He stacked them on a beaten old work bench as Artie stood back watching.

"This is for morning," Charlie said, opening a heavy paper box. He tipped it, showing Artie the large pile of dry crackers inside. Artie reached in to pick one up, inspecting it. The cracker clearly contained tiny dead black beetles and pieces of beetles. He put it back in the box and stirred a finger around, looking at more crackers

"Charlie," he said softly, "why do these have dead bugs in them? Are the bugs in the flour when you make them?" He cringed and pulled his hand back as a broken cracker revealed a large, and mostly intact, black roach.

"Yes, sir," Charlie said, turning to open a wooden drawer in another workbench. "This is where we keep the flour, in these drawers. We have to be careful to keep it dry but there is always something living in it." He picked up a tin scoop and dug in the flour. Tiny beetles darted to the top and dove again out of sight in the flour. "Cook always said they were the only meat the crew would get to eat most days so it was ok to keep them in the biscuits. Can't get them out anyway, there's so many of them."

Artie stood behind the boy and looked into the bug-filled flour and grimaced. "Ok, that's breakfast. And we don't get lunch, God forbid, so then you work all day cooking supper?"

Charlie opened another box holding dry leaves of various sizes. "I had some fish the other day so I made the soup. Cook use to use these but I wasn't sure what to do with them. They used to smell good when he first got them but now they don't as much. And they got really dry…" He stopped as Artemus leaned over to look in the box. "Do you know what these are? Cook said they were special."

"These are very special, Charlie," Artie said, smiling down at the boy, "these are seasonings; they make things like soup taste better." He picked up a branch with needles, "this is rosemary. All you need to do is to crush it before you put it in the hot water." He squeezed his fingers and rubbed the needles against his skin inside his closed fist. He held his open palm, with broken pieces, out to Charlie, "smell them now."

Charlie leaned closer and breathed in, his face lighting up, "wow, now I can smell them!"

"Try it," Artie said, pouring the pieces into the boy's hands, "these plants dry out when stored but you just break them up before you use them." He put the cover back on the box and opened another one, "oats? I think I had this for supper tonight. Not enough food for a man who has worked all day." He opened another box, "Corn for hominy, I suppose." The third box he opened clearly mystified him, "What is this; tiny amber beads?" He ran fingers through the fine grain-like material.

"Cook called it a funny name," Charlie said, "like queen or queasy?" He shook his head, "I never saw him use it, I don't know what to do with it."

Artie picked up a handful to inspect it more closely, rolling the beads between his fingers, "looks like a millet. I think it's like the oats or rice, just another grain. We will give it a try. It would be good with fish and the rosemary for flavoring." He paused, to look at the kid, "do you use nets to catch fish or fish hooks?"

"Me and ole Tuffy use his nets to catch 'em," Charlie said, "we toss them off the sides or the port, when we aren't moving too fast. We mostly catch small stuff but once I caught a big shark. We ate good that night!"

"A shark," Artie exclaimed, "well that would be large. I would think fishing would be a daily thing so we could get enough meat." He let out a long sigh. "Anything else? Old flour, oats, seasoning? Do you make bread?" Charlie shook his head no. "Probably need some yeast though we could make some flat breads. Rice would be good too, eventually." He sat a hip down on the side of the work bench, "Charlie, didn't this ship refill its food stores when it was in port? The Captain must have had money after selling the oil. He bought more storage vats and obviously got more men, which must have also cost money. He must have gotten some food and other supplies."

"Captain doesn't buy food in America, he says it costs too much," Charlie said. "So we stop at islands as we go south. We have to refill the water barrels if we don't get rain too," Charlie said, nodding, "and we stop at certain islands where traders are. Sometimes the men go to shore and hunt. Once they brought a pig back with them. Cook was really excited. We had a lot of good food then." He nodded, "Cook was really good when he had food to cook with." He sighed, a sadness worrying his young features, "when he didn't have food to cook for the men, he got really upset and would drink."

"He must have felt like he was letting them down," Artie said softly. "I am sure he did the best he could, considering what he had to work with." He stood up again, squeezing the young man's narrow shoulder, "do you feel comfortable showing me the Captain's food?"

Charlie shrugged, "I guess so," he said, pulling a key ring from his pocket, "we have to cook his breakfast and dinner. And," Charlie said, as he unlocked a large padlock on the chest, "the Captain has a new wife now so it's really cooking for two people. And I try to make it extra special for her since it's difficult to live on a ship full of men."

"A wife?" Artie said, "I thought wives were left behind in the towns, especially on a whaler." He paused as the heavy lid was tipped back. He leaned forward to look into the chest, amazed and sickened at the same time. "This is what the Captain eats while the men eat oatmeal and crackers full of bugs?" Anger edged his voice, "no wonder it's kept a secret," he growled. "If the men knew what was in this chest, there would be a mutiny."

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"But if Mr. Stone should see us," Charlie said, his panicked eyes darting around the deck as they emerged from the inner staircase. "He was always watching Cook and I know he watches me, all suspicious-like…" He paused, his voice choking as the first mate suddenly stepped in front of them.

"Well top of the morning to ya," Stone growled, "and shouldn't you two be down in the galley cooking for the men who do an honest day's work on this ship?" He eyes searched the young boy and Artie as they stood in the doorway.

"We came up to do some fishing," Artemus said, "Charlie was going to show me how to use the nets. The men need meat so they can work faster, don't you think?" He glared at the taller sailor over the top of Charlie's head.

"With two cooks again, I will be expecting something better than a bowl of gruel, I will," Stone snarled, making a sweeping motion with his arm as he stepped back. "I am sure there are nets with Tuffy, he may have one you can use."

Charlie darted forward to the old man sitting on the nets. Artemus walked slower, making good use of his time on the deck to see what was happening around him. He burned with curiosity at all the work men were doing on the decks, with the sails, and high above on the masts. He stopped to look up, his eyes always searching for Jim too.

"You wont find your friend up there," Tuffy cackled, grinning with excitement. "Oh, no, I know your friend. West? That's right, I remember names good. He went over the side, he did, hours ago," he said, pointing.

"Over the side," Artie said, worried. "You mean in the long boats?" He released a long breath as the old man nodded. "He said they were going to go out," he muttered, but Tuffy was already talking with Charlie. He walked to the railing and looked out over the water, squinting into the sun. Far out he could see the sun reflecting off something moving. He watched for a few minutes, realizing it was the reflection off the wet oars as they dipped into the water. Two boats would appear on top of waves and the disappear as they dropped below the crests, only to reappear again. Occasionally a voice was heard, calling out between the two boats.

"I got one," Charlie said, dragging a large net to Artemus. He struggled; the heavy load appeared larger than he was. "This is better than your idea, you'll see."

Artie stepped forward to grab the net, "well you show me. I've never fished with a net before." He dragged it to the railing and Charlie grabbed a long rope that was attached to the netting and hooked it around his right wrist.

"This rope is tied to the center and connects to the edge along those weights," the young boy explained, picking up the outer edge to show small lead weights attached to the fine mesh, "when you throw it over the rail, it spreads out and lands open on the water. When it sinks, it starts to close and traps fish. When you pick it up by the rope, it closes." He grinned up at Artie, "it's called a cast net and it takes practice. I can throw it off the lower deck and it just reaches the water." Together they carried the net down a ladder and moved to the railing on a lower deck.

Artie stood back, watching curiously, as Charlie threw the net off the boat. It opened as it spun, making a fine mesh circle in the air. Then it dropped down to the water and sank. Charlie pulled the rope slowly and soon the net was back at the railing, holding a couple of small fish.

Artie jumped forward, leaning far over the rails, to grab the heavily weighted lower edge. "That was amazing," he said, grabbing at the fish. "You do that very well. Now do you keep doing that or use the fish to catch something larger?"

"I just keep getting these," Charlie said, "eventually I get enough for a pot of soup." He threw the net back out and they watched it sink. He pulled up and again had more fish trapped in the mesh. "Sometimes I throw all day and never get anything. You must be bringing me luck!" They pulled the fish out and put them in a pail, leaving them to flop around inside. "Once I caught a big fish with a crazy long nose that was sharp. Tuffy had to help me pull the net up. And the sharp nose cut the ropes so we had to fix the net. But it was good eating."

Artie grinned at the young boy, half listening to his fishing stories, as he watched the long boats far out over the waves. Suddenly both boat had a flurry of oars reflecting in the sunlight. The boats were now pointing at the ship and were coming back at a fast pace. Artie's eyes dart around, looking for something that might be pursuing them but didn't see anything. He squinted at the water wondering if something that was the cause of the alarm. Other men appeared at the railings to watch, joined by men hanging on the ropes and masts.

"What's going on?" Artie asked, his voice tight, his hands gripping the railing.

"Oh, they're just racing," Charlie said, pointing out at the men. "The first boat past the bow wins extra rum!" The men started cheering and yelling encouragements, mixed with the usual insults, as the boats zipped past.

Artie noticed Jim was pulling his oar as fast as his mates, in the lead boat. The crew cheered as Jim's longboat passed by the stern, yards further ahead than the other boat. More jeers than cheers followed the second boat as it finally passed. Soon both boats returned to the sides of the ship where they began their training adventure. Jim's boat floated just beyond where Charlie was throwing his net. The men had put up the oars and were talking while stretching sore backs and arm muscles. As Charlie threw the net out once again, Artie glimpsed a dark form pass underneath the longboat and circle the net.

"Pull it up," he hissed, leaning over to watch the water. The shadow passed again, now circling the boat, sliding past the edges underneath the oar locks. "Jim, can you see that?" Artie pointed down at the water as his partner leaned over his oar. The other men looked also, just as the shadow returned. It was slightly higher in the water this pass and a dark grey fin cut through a wave before plunging beneath the surface.

"That's a shark," Charlie yelped as he gathered his net. "And a huge one at that!" He pointed as the shadow passed behind the boat; bumping it and making it tilt. "it's trying to tip the boat over!"

The sailors soon lined the railings, looking down at their mates, yelling and waving as if to scare off the monster. The noise attracted Stone who joined them at the railing. "Aye, it's a great white for sure. Don't be leaning over the edges or it might snatch a head clean off your shoulders." The man laughed as the crew continued to shout down at the water.

"Stay in the center of the boat," Artie yelled down at Jim. Many men wear leaning over to look in water, making the boat tilt. Jim grabbed Blaine and pulled him back from the edge just as the shark surfaced.

"Stay back," Jim said, keeping a tight grip on the young man's forearm, keeping them in the center of the bench seat. The shark opened its huge mouth as it passed, grasping the wide end of an oar paddle in its teeth. The boat tilted and was dragged sideways across the waves. With a terrifying smile of hundreds of white teeth, the shark plunged under the surface again. The oar tugged the boat over farther, the oar lock twisting, as the wooden length snapped like a dry twig. The remaining piece banged and rattled in the broken lock as the boat rocked back and forth on the water.

"We can't chance climbing to the ropes with that thing swimming under our feet. We'll have to stay in here until the beast leaves," Rowdy said, his face ashen. "Everyone, sit on the bottom of the boat. We'll be more stable and maybe, if it doesn't see us, it will decide to eat fish again."

Jim slid his butt off his seat and lowered himself down, oblivious to the cold, filthy water in the bottom. Blaine followed him, sitting close, his eyes wide with fright. They looked over the edge, past the oar lock, as the sunlight glinted off the huge fin. It broke the water's surface nearby and began circling the long boat. Jim twisted his head to look up at the ship, seeing his partner's panicked face and the looks of the other sailors standing along the railing. He also noticed that the long boat was drifting farther away, floating uncontrolled like a discarded cork.

tbc


	5. Chapter 5 Fight For Life

Chapter 5. _Fight for Life (rowing scene dedicated to Mare, an avid rower)

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"Rowdy," Jim shouted up the length of the long boat over the heads of the sailors. "We can bob around out here like a damned lost cork. We have to get back to the ship!" Rowdy nodded, his face white, but he looked off the point of the wooden boat to see what direction they were moving. "We have enough oars and the boat is still solid, let's get moving before it's knocked apart." Jim waited a heart-beat but realized Rowdy was frozen with fear. He took a deep breath and slid back onto the seat. Blaine followed and sat silently next to him, waiting for guidance. "Let's move, Rowdy," Jim urged, staring hard at the young man who was supposed to be leading them.

Rowdy took a deep breath and did the same. Many of the men also moved back to their seats and began checking their oars. "Ok, if you don't have an oar," Rowdy paused, "don't row. But we have to keep it even or we'll go in circles so your rowing partner can't row either. Or move the oars." He paused as men lifted oars from the oarlocks and traded them around, keeping intact oars opposite each other. Men with broken oars held the pieces high to use as clubs. Rowdy took a deep breath but paused again as the boat was knocked to one side from the monster below them. "Ok, go. Let's keep it steady," he urged, chanting, "row, row, row…"

Jim and Blaine bent low and then pulled hard, keeping their strokes even. The men around them with broken oars kept an eye out for the shark. As the dark fin broke the water's surface, a man would point and shout, "there!" Men nearby would life their oars out of the water and swing them to the edge of the boat out of range of the powerful jaw. The fin would disappear under the dark surface and the rowing would continue. The long boat inched closer to the ship and the shouts of the shipmates could be heard yelling encouragements.

"Stone," Rowdy yelled out, "stab the beast!" He pointed at the water and made a motion with his arm.

"And waist a good spear? I think not," Stone yelled back, laughing. "Get your arses back on board and stop fooling around." He shook his fist at the men as the longboat approached the side of the ship. "Now secure the boat and climb up the ropes!"

"Ya, ya, easier said than done," Jim muttered under his breath as the wooden boat tipped again. The shark bumped the point and rolled, its fin sticking high in the air above the heads of the men as it slid down the side of the boat. Jim leaned away from the edge, his back pushing into Blaine. "Christ, that's a monster fish," he breathed. The mouth opened to reveal rows of sharp, white teeth. Bits of rotting fish were stuck to the teeth and a foul stench emanated as it passed. Jim cringed and held his breath until the shark dove under the water again. He leaned forward, cautiously, to watch the dark shadow swim away and turned to see Blain watching him closely. Not wanting to scare the young man, he grinned, "If we could catch that for our supper, we would eat for a week." He slapped Blaine on the shoulder, "lets' get climbing!"

Rowdy stood at the point and grabbed the long rope tossed down from a man standing above at the railing. He twisted it on the hook at the point as another man did the same at the back of the boat. With the longboat secured, Rowdy gave the order to climb. Men leaped over the edge to grasp the ropes.

"Go," Jim said giving Blaine a shove. "As fast as you can," he said, his eyes keeping watch for the shark. " _Will it really be this easy?_ " he thought.

"Watch out," Rowdy suddenly yelled, pointing past Jim. "The beast means to land on us…" His warning came seconds too late as Jim turned to see the white belly of the beast descend on the back of the boat. The seats seemed to come up into the air as his head went down, crashing into the bottom of the boat. Then he was in the water with other sailors, with the boat above them.

Jim swam down and away from the tangle of legs and falling equipment, and then toward the sunlight at the surface. His eyes burned in the salt water but he kept them open to watch for the grey shadow of the shark. He broke the surface to hear screams of the men as they panicked. The other sailors on the ship yelled out encouragements and warnings to their friends and pointed in all directions. Jim took a few strong strokes and was at the rope mesh on the ship's side. Blaine hung, frozen, just above him.

"Climb," Jim yelled, trying to find a purchase for his feet. "We have to all move up!" Blaine began scrambling for the railing as a few others made it to the netting. Men's voices still pleaded for help from the water as the shark's fin appeared. "No!" Jim watched as the shark's mouth opened to chomp down on the wooden boat as it bobbed upside down in the water. The back had broken loose when the shark had landed on it but it was still attached by the point. "Good, bite the damned boat for a while," he said to himself, watching the men try to swim. "Christ, sailors that can't swim…" he growled. He leaped off the ropes and dropped back into the water. As he regained the surface, he grabbed the first man he came to and dragged him to the ropes. "Climb!" He pushed the man up and swam off for another.

Above, Artie watched in horror as the shark swam among the men still in the water. He had been relieved to see Jim make it to the ropes, to safety, but then was not surprised to see him jump back into the water to save the other men. "Where's that damned shark?" He snarled, leaning out over the railing for a better look. "If I just had a rifle, I could shoot it!"

His eyes caught the flash of sunlight on wet hide as the shark surfaced. The fin cut through the water, moving fast, and his heart sank. "Oh, no, no," he yelled, "Jim, behind you!" He yelled down at his friend, pointing, but the shark was approaching too fast this time.

Jim held the last man against his chest, his left arm holding him secure as his right reached out to pull them along in the water. The man was kicking his feet and twisting, fighting him, causing the water to splash. "Stop! Stay quiet!" Jim twisted his head around to look up at the ship, hearing his friend yelling his name as he was reaching his hand out for the ropes, when he felt something tug hard on the sailor. He turned back but in an instant, a second tug yanked the man out of his grasp. The man disappeared under the surface, with no time to cry out, in a burst of blood red water. "NO!" Jim screamed, treading water, his eyes desperately searching the waves, hoping the sailor would surface. After a few seconds, the red water dispersed and there was no sign of the lost man.

"Jim, get out of there. Get on the ropes!" Jim looked around, moving his hands in the water ahead of him, but the sailor was gone. He turned to see that the ship had slide away from him. He started to swim to the ropes but the shark's fine appeared between him and the ship. He stopped swimming and floated, trying not to move a muscle.

"Here, grab this," Artie shouted from above as he threw the cast net out. It landed in its usual circle next to Jim's right shoulder. "Grab on and I'll pull you out." Jim grabbed with both hands as the dark fin accelerated toward him. Artie, along with other sailors, quickly pulled the net up. Jim was suddenly at the ship's side and pulled up to the railing. Hands grabbed at him and pulled him over, onto the ship.

Jim sank slowly to his knees, weak with relief. "I had him, Artie," he said, his voice a low moan, "I had him. What happened? I couldn't find him," he said, his hands shaking.

"It's all right, buddy," Artie said, kneeling next to him. He wrapped a supporting arm over his friend's shoulder, "You saved a lot of men. They would have drowned or been attacked by that shark if you hadn't gone back."

Rowdy appeared at Jim's other side, grabbing his shoulder to drag him to his feet. "We all thank you, West," he said, keeping a supportive hand on Jim's shoulder. "But we all know the dangers of living a sailor's life. And ole Tucker was always unlucky. Fate just finally caught up to him." The sailors stood in a group, heads down, in a moment of silence thinking of the man that was lost as Stone stood apart, watching the group. The Captain, on the upper deck, also hung his head, the only sound coming from the flap of the sails overhead.

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The men filed into the mess slowly and silently, much different than their usual boisterous attitude. The long day of repairing the long boat and preparing for the whale hunt to come had not taken their minds off their lost comrade. Jim was maneuvered to the front of the line with many men still slapping his back in thanks for saving others.

Jim stopped at the table in front of the large stock pot. He looked at young Charlie as the young boy smiled broadly, obviously proud to serve the meal. Then he looked up at Artemus who was standing behind Charlie, his left arm folded across his middle with a white towel draped over. "Artemus, you look like you are serving in the Ritz Carlton". His partner just winked at him, keeping a stoic face. He grinned at Charlie as he picked up a bowl. "And what is the soup of the day, Charlie?"

The boy picked up his long handled ladle, "its fish soup but this time it has fish in it!" He dipped the ladle and stirred as the men behind Jim all burst into laughter. "And it has something like rice too in it."

"Rice-like fish soup," Jim said, pretending to be impressed, "sounds great." He held the bowl out so the boy could fill it. The smell of the soup filled the air and the men crowded forward, surprised, to look at the bowl. "There definitely seems to be fish in it and it smells wonderful." He gave his partner a nod and moved to a nearby table. He grabbed a spoon and began eating, surprised at how good it tasted. Soon Blaine and Rowdy joined him, all eagerly tasting the soup.

"How the heck does he make it taste like this," Rowdy said, chewing and talking at the same time. "I ate tasted food like this on a ship. My grandma used to cook a seafood chowder with milk instead of water. Lots of pepper too. This is like that," he said, stirring the bowl. "And what's all them pieces in there, floating around?"

"That must be the rice like parts," Jim grinned. He put the broth into his spoon and tipped it to inspect it more closely. "Artie is a good cook but he has out done himself this time," he said, pausing to eat another bite. "Some kind of seasoning too," he said, trying to figure out what he was tasting.

"Rosemary," Artie said, suddenly appearing across the table from Jim. "Rosemary and pepper. I don't know what the rice like grains are called but they taste good and give the soup some body. There is food in the galley to cook with but Charlie didn't know what to do with half of it. It doesn't sound like he was doing a lot of the actual cooking until he became the cook. I take it something happened suddenly to the old man?" He paused as Rowdy nodded. "What did happen to him? Charlie gets pretty upset when I ask."

Rowdy looked up from his bowl to look around the room. His eyes fell on Stone as the man stood, last in line, for the soup. He nodded, "that's what happened to old the ole Cook. He crossed the First Mate. Stone hadn't been here but a few weeks when he started having a heavy hand on the crew. The Captain don't see most of it, thinks it's all the regular work as usual, but that Stone has a real mean streak. Something wrong with his insides." He shook his head. "Anyway, ole Cook was complaining that we hadn't gotten enough supplies and he couldn't make a decent meal for the men. He was saying he wanted to talk to the Captain about going to an island for water and meat. Stone got mad, said no one but him could talk to the Captain," he whispered. He looked down at his bowl as Stone's dark gaze passed over the room. The first mate sat down at a table in the far corner so Rowdy continued, more quietly.

Jim turned to watch Charley get a bowl and start walking toward them. "I take it Stone killed him, maybe by accident?" He wanted to hurry the story to its end before the young boy arrived at their table.

Rowdy nodded, watching Charlie approach, "on the main deck, backhanded the old man. His neck snapped with a loud crack. He fell, dead before he hit the deck." A few men nearby grumbled at the story, shaking heads in anger. "It was hard on all of us but a shock to the boy. He'll be a good cook now that he has a good teacher again," he said, nodding to Artemus. "We are all grateful to you, friend."

Artie gave a short nod and began eating his soup, not wanting to see the hopeful faces turning his way. " _Not my life's work_ ," he thought to himself.

Rowdy turned back to Jim, "so you must be careful never to anger Stone. Never throw a punch at him or shout back. He's a terrible man when angered." He shook his head, whispering even softer, as Charlie approached. "You see he could have saved old Tucker from the shark if he had thrown the spear. It has a rope attached, as you saw when we sharpened them, so it would not have been lost if he missed the beast. He would rather laugh as good men perish." The conversation came to an abrupt end as the boy arrived carefully holding his bowl.

Jim and Artie exchanged a glance as Charlie sat next to Jim's other side. "Do you like the soup?" The young boy looked eagerly at the small group of friends. "I helped do a lot of the cooking today and I showed Artie how to use the cast net."

"You did," Artie nodded, making a point to agree, "and then I used it to catch Jim!" He smacked his partner's back as everyone burst into laughter. "Biggest fish we caught all day. But we'll try again tomorrow."

"Sometimes I catch fish every day," Charlie said, tasting the soup. "This is really good," he said, pausing to take a larger bite. Chewing, he continued, "but then sometimes I can go for a week without catching anything. Don't know why. Ole Cook said never use all your meat in one day, might need it another day." He swallowed and took another big bite. "And when its storming," he said, pausing between chomps, "we can't fish at all. The ship really tips around so much you can't stand on the deck and I might lose the net."

Artie thought for a minute, "all good points, Charlie," he said, tapping his fingers on the table. "We need a way to safely preserve the meat. Let me think about it for a while. We'll come up with something that works."

Jim yawned, and pushed his bowl back, leaning his forearms on the table. "I could sleep right here," he muttered. He leaned over, putting his forehead onto his crossed wrists.

"You're tired," Rowdy laughed. "Think of us, your bunk mates. I never met a man who snored as loud and talked as much," he said, as the group burst into raucous laughter, "all night long!" Artie smacked Jim on the back again as he joined in the joke. "And who is Sophie anyway? You talked all night as if she was in bed with you!"

Artie fell against Jim's shoulder, weak with laughter, "oh, just a girl he left behind!" He could just see the side of Jim's face and one ear were beat red as he stayed facing the table top. "And he does snore, that's for sure!"

The next day…..

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The men crowded the decks as the Captain appeared above them, the morning light glowing on the water as the sun broke over the horizon. The ship rolled easily on the waves and the light wind filled the sails. The colors of the American flag, high on its mast, flashed between shadow and brilliant sunlight as it waved.

"Men," the captain said, his deep voice projecting over the ship. "I want to thank the older, experienced men for training the new ones. I see this crew working together to accomplish our task. I want to especially thank Gordon for providing nourishing food so that you can work without the pangs of hunger and for teaching young Charlie so that he will become an asset to the ship for many years. And I want to thank West for saving many a sailor's lives yesterday as the Devil himself sent evil among the men on the longboat." He paused as the crew shouted out a few "Here Here" calls to Jim and Artemus as they were good naturedly punched in the shoulders and slapped on the backs from friends near them.

"I also want to take a moment of silence for lost Tucker," the Captain said, lowering his head. The crew quieted and all dropped their faces, except for Stone who stood behind the Captain and therefore out of his gaze. After a moment, the Captain looked up again. "We are traveling now in warmer waters where the whales are. Our hard work is going to begin. We will also be stopping soon at an island to gather fresh water and to hunt. It is not inhabited by friends so we will go in a small party that will be guarded with heavy weapons. It will be imperative to keep an eye out as you perform your duties. An extra cup of rum for the first sailor to spot land or a whale today!"

The crew burst into cheers, raising fists and shouting with excitement at the mention of land and fresh food. "This ship has taken on even more vats to store whale oil. This voyage may be long but it will be full of riches for all of us. The more whales we process, the faster the vats are filled, and the sooner we will return to the Americas. But for now, we will sail to the south seas. So keep a sharp eye out and see who can beat the man in the crow's nest!" As the crew cheered again, the Captain turned to Stone, speaking briefly, and disappearing to return to his cabin.

Rowdy gathered his group, which still included Artie. "So when we go to land, we carry spears to fight natives," he paused as Jim and Artie rolled their eyes. "Stone will stay on board but the man in the crow's nest will come. He is a second in command and close ally of Stone. He will carry the only firearm."

"Wait," Jim said, interrupting with a hand to Rowdy's shoulder, "the guy in the crow's nest who didn't spot the pirate ship? That guy? He doesn't seem to see very well. I don't know who the hell put him up there but now you say he is going to shoot our dinner; probably a running wild boar?"

"He's up there because it's the easiest job on the ship," Rowdy growled, "also the most important, which is tough because he can't see past the end of his damned nose. But he's Stone's right hand man so keep complaints to yourself. It won't go well for you to complain to him."

Jim growled and shook his head. Artie pocked a finger onto his shoulder, "maybe you can spear a wild boar as it runs past you." He grinned, knowing how fast and accurate his partner was with a firearm. He turned to Rowdy, "so Stone and his buddy are the only ones with a firearm? And I see the spears are locked up. I was going to ask, I can't even find a sharp knife in the galley. Is Stone afraid we may cut his throat as he sleeps?"

Rowdy nodded, looking over his shoulder to see who was listening, "yes, he confiscated anything he considered a weapon when he started. We used to all have our knives on our belts and guns at the ready in case of pirates. Now, if you need to cut a damned rope, you have to ask Stone to do it for you. He ain't the trusting sort. And you saw when the pirate ship was behind us, we had to unlock the swords and hand them out. I don't even know where the guns are."

Jim sighed, "but the spears for the whales are in the racks so he apparently doesn't worry about someone spearing him?"

"The Captain insisted those stay at the ready," Rowdy nodded, "but he didn't care about knives and guns as long as the work is done and weapons are made ready if a pirate ship is seen. But it still eats at you, like we can't be trusted to act like honest men!" He suddenly dipped his head, knowing his voice was carrying over the deck.

"Well honest men do an honest day's work," Artie said, projecting his voice to cover for their conversation. Eyes of others were starting to look their way. "And hunting these wild boars sounds interesting. I look forward to cooking one."

Rowdy nodded his thanks, relieved at Artie's quick thinking. "The hunt won't be easy. The jungle is hot and filled with bugs, spiders, snakes…" he shivered all over. "Just finding a pig in the thickets is the worse part. Then to be quick enough to shoot one," he shook his head. "Well we shall see. But water is needed too. I hear the vats are almost dry."

As the group broke up, Jim stood for a minute, looking out over the waves. Artie stood next to him as the other men moved to their work. "I cannot believe I am going hunting with a spear," he growled. "This Stone and his buddy, the ole blind rat, need to get their asses kicked off a cliff."

"Sounds like they have everyone scared to fight them," Artie agreed. "But these men are fishermen, not street fighters. They grab small young men like Blaine and Rowdy." He grinned at Jim, "they grabbed you since you didn't look to imposing. But be careful if you do try anything. Make sure you can win," he warned, "you don't want a hand chopped off by an angry Captain for disabling his First Mate. There is a strict hierarchy here."

Jim took a deep breath and looked up at the Crow's nest. The man was pacing the small deck as usual. He looked back out to the waves and blinked. A large, black shape moved across the wave's crest. "Artie," he whispered, "what the hell is that thing? It's huge?"

Artie looked too, squinting, holding a hand to block out the strong rays of the sun. "That's got to be a whale, Jim. It's large but smaller than I thought they would be. Maybe it's a young one." He smacked Jim's back again, "you won another cup of rum, partner!"

Jim turned to Rowdy, who was talking nearby with other sailors, "Hey, Rowdy," the young man turned to him Jim pointed out to the waves. "Is that a whale? I've never seen one before." The large, dark shape rose out of the water and disappeared again.

Rowdy's eyes popped open and he turned to yell across the deck. "WHALE!" Every man dropped what they were doing and rushed to the railings. The long boats were uncovered as men grabbed spears and ropes. Shouts of "WHALE" rang as a war cry as the men scurried, bumping into each other and tripping over supplies. Stone appeared, followed by the Captain, on the upper deck, and began shouting orders, causing men to run even faster.

"Holly shit" Jim laughed, "This is crazy. I guess it's time to go whale hunting instead of boar hunting after all."

Artie looked out over the railing as the long boat dropped to the water, "I hope that shark is gone." He and Jim exchanged a look, "watch yourself out there. That whale will be larger than the shark was."

"But it will have less teeth," Jim grinned. He smacked Artie's shoulder, "stay out of trouble while I am gone." He hurried over to grab equipment and moved to his assigned boat, standing behind Rowdy.

Artie stayed at the railing, his chest tight, as he watched the men toss equipment over their shoulders and begin to climb down. He looked out again for the whale and for the sign of the shark's fin. Twisting up, he saw the man in the crow's nest leaning over his railing of his private deck, watching the men leave. "Blind bastard, got beat again, didn't you?" He chuckled and turned back to see the two long boats move away from the ship, the wet oars flashing in the sunlight as they dipped and rose, cutting into the waves. "Break a leg, Jim," he whispered, not daring to say anything besides the old theatre saying.

tbc


	6. Chapter 6 First Kill

Chapter 6. The First Kill

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"Closer!" Rowdy pointed toward the dark back, iridescent in the sunlight, as the longboat hovered briefly on a wave's crest. "We need to be closer to throw the harpoons." He waved the other longboat off but the leader in the second boat shook his fist in return. "We got here first, this one is ours!" Rowdy snatched up a harpoon and braced his legs as the longboat slid down between waves.

Jim cut his oar deep into the water and pulled, as all the men on his boat had done for hours. He stared at the man's back that sat in front of him. The only view was what was behind them, which was useless most of the time, or to the side, which occasionally gave him a glimpse of where he was going and what they were pursuing. Monotonous silence was worse than the physical, back breaking work. The men around him were thin and wiry but without the muscles he had. The food on the ship, though better now, he chuckled to himself, was not enough to cause me to become stronger. He stole a look at Blaine, worried about the young man, but relieved he seemed healthy and to be enjoying himself. He twisted his head sideways, hollering out a question to the oarsmen, "so can we eat part of this whale?"

"We can eat anything," one man yelled out. "As long as Charlie can cook it!" The men roared with laughter as Rowdy shouted down at them again to row faster. The second long boat was trying to maneuver between their boat and the whale. "This is a small one though, barely worth our trouble. We'll find some larger ones further south." Many men nodded in agreement.

Jim looked to his side as the boat climbed to the top of a wave. The whale's wide tail was seen high in the air as it plunged deeper into the water. A flash of movement caught the corner of his eye as a harpoon flew toward waves. An explosion of red water erupted near their boat as the whale began to thrash. A second harpoon followed, the ropes becoming twisted as the injured animal rolled. A large fin banged into the side of the longboat, tossing it more violently than the shark had earlier. The ropes reached their end of their length and the boat began to be pulled though the waves as the whale tried to escape.

"Good aiming, Rowdy," a man's voice yelled out from near the front of the boat. "One more should finish the job!" Another harpoon was thrown, hitting the side of the whale, as it lay still now in the water.

The second longboat pulled closer and a man jumped over its edge to stand on the dead whale. "A good start," the man said, tipping his hat to Rowdy, "a good job for a first time. And a fast boatfull of oarsmen you have too." The men cheered, exhausted with the exertion of the rowing in the long pursuit of the whale. "Of course you caught yourself a baby and we won't get more than a teaspoon of oil but who's to say a negative thought on such a fine day," the man said, laughing in good humor. The men called out jeers to him, as Rowdy bowed.

"The next one will be larger," Rowdy said, "and this one will be easy to tow back to the ship." He jumped onto the whale's back and began loosening the ropes. "Tie off to the tail and we will make our way back. I imagine that the Captain will…" he yelled out in alarm as the dead body tilted suddenly, the tail dipping into the water. Before he could speak, a large dark fine slid past. "Damn those beasts to hell!" A shark's open mouth, water dripping from the rows of jagged teeth, suddenly emerged from the water's surface and chomped down onto the whale's tail, pulling it again down into the water. Rowdy and the other man held onto the ropes that we wrapped around the whale, riding it much like a bunking bronco.

"Hand me a harpoon," Jim snapped to the men behind him. Quickly, the long steel blade was passed down from the ship's front. Jim stood between the seats, bracing his legs on the tipping boat, and watched from the shark to reappear. It didn't take long for the dark grey head, with its pale eye, to show again. Jim waited from the animal to open its mouth, reaching for the wide tail again, and he threw the harpoon as hard as he could. The point, made for the tougher whale's hide, drove deep into the side of the shark. The animal exploded in a burst of bloody water as the head and tail thrashed against the longboat. The men ducked away from the open mouth to avoid teeth but soon the shark floated next to the dead whale.

"Good throw, West," Rowdy called out as the men cheered again, "keep an eye out for any more. This blood draws them worse than flies to stinking food at a day old picnic."

"And we can eat that," Jim said, leaning over the boat to look down at the huge shark, "I've had shark in restaurants, it's not bad. Artie and Charlie can cook it up." He pulled at the rope attached to the harpoon, drawing the shark closer. "Do we drag all this behind our boat? I would l think we would have every shark in the area coming back with us."

"Too big to put in the longboat," Rowdy said, as the men nearby snickered. He tossed a line to another man and the ropes were attached to the back. He climbed back to the wooden boat and the men dropped their oars back into the water. "Get ahead of us and get everything ready. Heat up the cauldrons and sharpen the knives, we process the first whale tonight!" The men in the other longboat cheered, and oars flashed in the setting sun, as the boat moved quickly away toward the ship in the far distance. "Good thing we didn't have to go much farther," Rowdy said, "losing site of the ship out in the ocean is a worrisome thing." The men muttered under their breaths as the boat turned slowly. The dead whale and shark dragged behind them, making the heavy wooden boat sluggish.

"Maybe I don't want that damned shark for supper," Jim groaned, pulling at his oar, feeling the muscles in his back tighten. Blaine grinned at him from the other side of the bench. "It's like hauling a giant boot behind us." The oar bent slightly with his effort.

"Hey, where did you say you ate a shark before," Blaine asked. His eager face always surprised Jim, even more than his obvious limited life experiences.

"At a restaurant called the Ritz Carlton in New York City," Jim sighed, thinking it was a life time ago, "it was cut like a steak, lots of salt and pepper." He pulled again at the oar, his eyes shut, remembering the dinner, the girl on his arm. "I think Artie had one too that night."

"What's a restaurant?" Blaine said, trying to pronounce the word.

Jim's eyes popped open to stare at the young man, "it's a business, where you pay money to eat, the cook is in the back, in the kitchen, and a waiter or waitress brings your food." He stopped, grinning, as the young man looked confused, and gave him a wink, "and it's a good place to bring a pretty girl on a date." Blaine blushed and looked away. "We need to find you a girl, Blaine," Jim laughed, giving the fellow a light punch in the shoulder. He turned to yell back at the men, "You guys must stop at an island where the island girls don't wear much for clothes!" The men all yelled a mixture of "Yes" and "Hope so!"

They soon approached the ship, as the sun slanted low over the waves. The Captain looked down approvingly from an upper deck as the railings crowded with the crew. Mixed in, Artie waved with the others. The long boat slide to the side of the ship and ropes were tossed down. The men scrambled up the mesh ropes and climbed over the railings.

"I brought you something to cook, Artemus," Jim grinned, pointing down at the boat. Men from the other longboat had climbed down the ropes as Jim and his fellow oarsmen climbed up, to swarm over the whale, attaching large hooks attached to ropes. "Shark. I want a good shark steak for supper tonight."

Artie laughed, looking down at the shark, as men began cutting the harpoon from its side. "I suppose you would like a bottle of wine and a pretty girl on your arm too?"

"I'd be happy with a clean plate and an extra cup of rum," Jim sighed, tiredly. Now that the excitement was over, he was feeling drained. He stretched his arm muscles, watching the activity on the ship. The fires under the cauldrons had died down to a pile of red hot coals. Large hooks were being connected to more ropes and the ropes stretched high above to block and tackle. "I have no idea what is happening and I am too tired to figure it out." He turned to Artie, "I thought I was in good shape but these guys can outwork me. I'm exhausted."

"You're used to more food and more rest," Artie said, turning a concerned eye to his friend. "They are used to theses harsh conditions while we are used to living on a private train car." They watched as men began pulling ropes through the block and tackle, raising the whale up out of the water. Others holding long knives waited on a metal platform that hung out over the side of the ship. As the whale hung nearby, they stabbed a hook into the side and began cutting long sections of hide.

Rowdy came over to stand with them, nodding toward the workers. "It's small but it's a sperm whale, the best whale in the ocean." He paused as a long slab of skin and fat were cut away and hung from the hook. Men pulled it over the railing and onto the deck where the men with knives worked quickly to cut it into smaller pieces. "This will be all processed today and cook all night. The oil reduces down so we can store it. Then the head is moved to the deck where its cut open. There are more oils inside, different oils, that are collected separately."

"Why is the sperm whale the best," Artie asked, curios as usual.

"The oil from a sperm whale burns without smoke," Rowdy explained. "And the oils inside the head are used for many things in America besides lamp oil and candles. The Captain will sell everything separately so we have to be careful to clean between each step. Then we have to clean ourselves and the ship when we're done. We'll have oil everywhere, even when you're careful, it seems to fill the air."

Jim looked out over the ocean and then up to the man in the crow's nest. "What happens if that pirate ship appears when this is all going on? Can this ship move?"

Rowdy looked out over the waves, shaking his head, "no, we are sitting ducks. We would have to fight them off. And they know it too." He growled, "Aye, they'd love to catch a ship during whale processing."

"There isn't anything here of value," Artie said, "what do they want?"

"Men," Rowdy said quickly. "They take the strongest, kill the weakest. And kidnap any passengers for ransom, like the Captain's wife. If they don't get money for them, they kill them too." He shrugged, "dangerous people are everywhere. It's nothing new but Stone took our guns and knives so we only have the swords to fight with. I don't know if he would return the guns to us if we were attacked."

"That's crazy," Jim growled, "or suicide. I thought I saw cannon on board. Do they work?"

"I don't know," Rowdy said, "I have never seen them fired. I think they are old and I am not sure if anyone here knows how to fire them. We could ask ole Tuffy, he might remember."

Jim looked at Artie, "maybe you could take a look at them, see if they have powder and shot. Maybe the just need cleaning out." He looked at Rowdy, nodding his head toward his partner, winking, "he can do more than cook."

Rowdy looked at Artie, obviously surprised, "well if you can fire a cannon like you run that stove in the galley, I have no doubt they will be firing soon!" He slapped Artie on the shoulder. "But let's get that shark cut up for supper. It's a big fish and will make us a good feast, if we can figure out how to cook it."

Artie looked at the hot coals under the fire. "If I can borrow some coals and a flat piece of metal, we can cook steaks up on the deck. Then the men can eat with little interruption in their work."

[

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Later, after dark….

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The coals glowed a deep red as they were tucked underneath the flat metal. Large, thick slabs of pale white flesh sizzled on top, sending smells of an exotic dinner through the masses of working men. The pleasant smell fought with the waves of stench emanating from the chunks of whale blubber and skin stacked on the deck. Already the wood was slippery to the bare feet as the men moved around their work. Artie watched the men, curious at how the oil was rendered down in such a large production. Charlie stood nearby with a large spatula that they had added a longer handle to.

"Should I turn them, mister Artie," the young boy asked. He picked up the corner of one of the steaks with the spatula to look at the underside. "It looks brown to me but it's hard to see."

"You can turn one, see if it falls apart, like I told you," Artie said quietly. He enjoyed teaching the youngster who was so eager to learn the trade. He watched as Charlie slide the spatula underneath the steak and flipped it over. It landed with a sizzle. "Now poke the top and see if the meat is separating yet. That's how you know when fish are cooked, it will flake apart."

Charlie poked at it, nodding, "this side is. Should I turn them all then?" Artie nodded and the boy carefully began turning all the steaks.

Artie turned as he heard Jim shout in alarm. His partner was pulling a man back from the coals, sliding him across the slippery deck. Artie rushed over, careful not to slip. "What happened?" The man was curling into a ball, holding his arms across his stomach.

"He slipped and fell into the coals," Jim grimaced. "What can we do for burns?" A few men paused in their movements but the first mate quickly noticed and yelled down at them from an upper deck. They returned to their tasks but still kept an eye out on their friend. Rowdy left the group to kneel next to the injured man.

"We put cold water on burns and wrap them in cloth to keep the skin clean," Rowdy said, Artie nodded in agreement, "sometimes we add oil but I don't think it helps until later when the skin has cooled. The oil keeps the skin from cracking open."

"Well we have plenty of oil," Jim said, looking down at his oil soaked clothing. "I'm surprised no one has burst into flames yet." He walked to a nearby pail and carried it back, "use this until I can get another pail filled with cold water." Rowdy and Artie helped the injured man put his hand and forearm into the water. The sailor grimaced and clamped his teeth shut against the pain but didn't cry out.

"What's going on?" Stone stomped up to the group, glaring down at them. "Back to work with you!" Rowdy opened his mouth to protest but rose silently instead, squeezing his friend's shoulder. Artie remained by the injured man, keeping his eyes down, unsure of what he might say if he started to speak. Stone raised a fist, shaking it at Artie's bent head, "and the Captain is awaiting his dinner, cook!"

Jim returned with the pail of fresh, cold water, moving around Stone, more nervous as to what his partner might do to Stone if pushed too far then what Stone might do. "I'm sure the Captain wouldn't want raw shark meat," Jim said quietly, trying to divert the first mate's attention away from his friend. "And this sailor will be back on duty faster with faster medical attention." He was careful to keep his eyes on his work, not wanting to ignite a confrontation after such a long day.

He knelt next to the sailor and managed to switch pails as Artie moved the man's arm to the colder water.

"All right, all right," Stone snapped, "enough of the nursing. He doesn't need to have his hand held while he sits there." Jim stood, leaving the two buckets by the sailor. He grabbed his partner's shoulder and pulled him to his feet, pushing him toward the cooking area.

"Keep quiet, partner," Jim hissed, "It's been a long day and everyone is tired and hungry."

"Ya, ya, ya," Artie growled, his body stiff with anger. "That blowhard needs to get tossed over the railing down to those sharks tailing us." He stopped next to Charlie, seeing the boy's eyes white with worry. "It's all right, Charlie," He said, patting the boys shoulder, "I try not to fight while I'm cooking; it just causes a burnt dinner."

"No fighting for you after cooking either," Jim said, shaking his head at his friend. "I'll get him but not tonight. I'm too tired to kill a fly tonight. And I'm starving. I'm not sure if cooking on the deck was a good idea. Everyone is dying of hunger from smelling that."

"I think some of them are done," Charlie said, nervously looking at Artie. "The thinner ones, just like you said, cook faster. Should I bring them to the Captain and his misses?"

Artie nodded, picking up a platter. "We should be serving this with a tossed salad and a bottle of dark red wine." Charlie looked at him curiously. "Someday, Charlie, some day," He said, patting his shoulder. "You stay here and keep watching the rest of the steaks. I'll bring this to the Captain tonight. I haven't been to his cabin yet and Stone is busy on deck. This could be an enlightening visit."

Jim turned to steal a glance over his shoulder, watching as the first mate yelled at the men cutting the whale. The carcass hung by its tail was mostly bones now and he new the head would be cut up soon. "Good idea, partner, I'll make sure Stone stays on deck until I see you back up here." He watched as Artie carefully carried a platter of shark steaks up a ladde to th upper deck and disappeared into the inner halls that lead to the Captain's quarters.

"Mister Artie wouldn't try to fight Mr. Stone, would he," Charlie whispered, suddenly standing at Jim's elbow looking up with a worried face. "The first mate killed ole cook with one swipe of his hand. He is the Devil, even when he isn't mad."

Jim grinned down at Charlie, "you'd be surprised at what mister Artie can do. But we'll keep him from fighting, just in case." He walked away from the young cook to return to work at the cauldrons.

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Inside….

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Artie paused in the hallway, blinking and letting his eyes adjust to the dim light. The deck lighting was bright near the lanterns and the coals gave an orange glow to the oil slickened surfaces but the inner hallways at night were kept mostly in the dark. The oil for lamps was not wasted on the ship's crew. He slowly made his way through the halls, winding down short flights of steps and finally reaching the Captain's door. Artie rapped his knuckles on the heavy planks of wooden held with straps of iron and listened to sounds of murmured voices inside. He ran a hand through his hair, grimacing at the oil and dirt on his fingers. " _Artemus, you need a bath_ ," he muttered to himself.

"Enter," a man's deep voice said from inside.

Artie turned the knob and slowly entered the room, carefully maneuvering the platter of food. The Captain stood in the center of the room, wearing his full uniform except for the usual hat. His dark eyes quickly appraised Artie in the room's flickering lamplight as he waved a hand, ushering him in. "I apologize for not personally thanking you sooner for this fine food you have been providing us," the man said, with a slight nod.

Artie stopped, surprised at the gracious greeting, "you're welcome, sir," he managed to say.

"I hope you are teaching young Charlie," the Captain continued, "as a Captain, the health of my crew is important so that they can work to the highest level of efficiency. The faster we fill the oil vessels, the faster we return to America."

"I understand the ship is equipped with many vessels," Artemus said, "and may be at sea for years before returning to America. The health of the crew on such a long voyage is extremely important."

"Yes," the Captain agreed, "I expect to be at sea for many months. It all depends on the sperm whale and how quickly we capture each one. This one today was small but it is a good, early start and good training for the new men." A rustling sound came from a couch behind the Captain. "My apologies again," the man said, bowing and turning slightly behind him, "I have neglected my wife."

"Ma'am," Artemus said, stepping closer, nodding to the women as she stood slowly from the long couch. As he straightened and looked into her face, his hands gripped the tray tighter. Fighting to keep is face blank, he swallowed his surprise. The women, however, did not have his training of keeping a poker face. Her eyes widened in surprise and a hand flew to her piles of red hair. Her recognition of him was obvious but her husband didn't seem to notice.

"This is our new cook, my dear," the Captain said, taking a delicate hand in his. "This is mister Artemus, as Charlie has told us." He turned back to Artie, "the young boy seems quite enthralled by your skills. I do hope you are taking his training seriously and as much as you can with our limited supplies."

"Yes, of course," Artemus said, pulling his eyes away from the woman. "Actually I was hoping to speak to you of supplies but I am sure you would like to let your wife begin eating first." He turned and put the platter onto a large table nearby as the woman moved to sit in a heavy chair. "The supplies are surprisingly limited for such a large and active group of working men. Charlie said he tries to catch fish but the men should have other food, especially citrus. I believe the British kept limes?"

The Captain snickered, "old stories," he said, shaking his head. "And we stop at islands further to the south for supplies. Any day now we will sight the first of the islands. We have to be careful where we stop because of the savages, of course, but we will have more of a variety very soon."

Artemus nodded, satisfied, "also, if I may, sir," he said slowly, "I am told there are cannon on board. I know some about artillery. I was hoping to get your permission to clean them, get them working, in case of…" he paused, nodding to the woman behind him, as she ate the shark. "well, in case you wanted to see them fired."

The Captain thought for a moment, "The first mate explained to me how modern ships keep weapons locked from the crew to keep the men from injuring each other in petty arguments," he said, "I thought it was unnecessary but I did insist of swards being available. The cannon have not been tested in years since we lost the crew who knew how to work them. If it is something you have experience with, then yes, I give you permission. I think any professional ship should have working cannon." He nodded, "and I would not have expected that question from a cook."

"One picks up odd skills in life," Artemus said.

"If I may ask," the woman said, "what is this fish? It is excellent."

Artemus bowed to her as she turned to look at him, her eyes twinkling in amusement now that the shock had subsided, "it is shark, ma'am. Mr. West killed it when the men were killing the whale."

"Mr. West?" The woman's eyes widened again and her hand returned to her hair, nervously. "I see," she murmured, "please thank him for his skill and to you for cooking this."

Artie nodded again, "I apologize for not bringing wine to accompany it."

The Captain smiled, "I have a limited stock of wine and brandy for special occasions but in general, do not believe in spirits of any kind as a daily drink. The men are allowed rum in small quantities as you have seen. But we will look forward to what you can prepare when we reach the islands." He stepped back and bowed to Artemus, obviously ending the conversation.

"I leave you to enjoy your dinner, sir," Artemus said, bowing to the Captain and to his wife. He turned and walked from the room. In the hallway, shutting the door behind him, he sank against the wall. " _Well, Artemus, your Great Aunt Maud always said never turn your back on an old friend_." He chuckled to himself, " _wait until I tell Jim who the wife is. He won't believe it_!" He hurried to the deck, his mind busy with opportunities that had just opened up.

tbc


	7. Chapter 7 Friends Old and New

Chapter 7. Friends Old and New

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Jim scrapped the spoon across the plate, getting the last pieces of the cooked shark meat. He set the plate down with a long sigh. "Now that was a good meal," he said, looking over the flat metal sheet where the meal had been cooked. The coals glowed a deep orange now, flickering the soft light in the darkness on the deck. Men still worked nearby, cutting the last of the whale's body apart.

"That was good," Artie agreed, patting his stomach. "First time I have felt full in days. Or is it weeks? And my clothes are just hanging on me," he said, pulling at the lose waistband of his pants. "Good thing I had my suspenders on when I was invited to join this trip."

Jim laughed, giving his partner a soft punch in the shoulder, "no more soft living for you. When we get back," he said, "and we will get back, I'm going to keep you in top shape."

"My old shape was just fine, thank you," Artie said, turning annoyed face to his partner. "But I agree we will get back. And I think we have a hidden ace now." He winked at Jim's surprised look, "I didn't tell you yet about my conversation with the Captain and what I found in his quarters. Or I should say whom."

"No, you were too busy eating," Jim said, "but I saw that grin on your face when you came back onto the deck tonight," he paused, thinking, "what does Colonel Richmond say? Your Mona Lisa smile? Usually means you have a secret. I figured you would tell me eventually."

Artie laughed quietly, "Mona Lisa smile? Ya, I haven't heard that one for a while." He ran his hand through is hair, thick with sweat. "He must wonder what the hell happened to us."

"As long as he keeps the train for us and someone is taking care of our horses," Jim growled, "and Sophie and the birds too. How did we end up with so many mouths to feed?" He turned back to his partner, "but, what did you and the Captain chat about and what's our hidden ace?"

Artie took a deep breath and thought back, "we started talking about food and my teaching Charlie how to cook. I asked about supplies and he said we would be stopping soon at islands where he said they get a variety of foods. I mentioned limes and he didn't seem to believe that they were needed but he did say the food will be better soon. I asked about the cannon," he said, snapping his fingers of his right hand, "and he said I could clean them out. Said the crewmen that knew how to use them aren't here now. So I need to look into that. But, then," he said, grinning, pocking a finger into Jim's shoulder, "then he introduced me to his new wife."

Jim waited, knowing he couldn't rush his partner's stories, "and…"

"And its someone we know," Artie said, pausing again.

"Should I guess," Jim said, trying to keep his patience. "We know a lot of people. Maybe you could give me a hint, like her name?"

"Her name would be an insultingly easy hint," Artie said, his eyebrows rising, "let's start with women you know who have red hair?"

"Melinda, in the office?" Jim guessed.

Artie scowled, "ya, its Melinda," he said, sarcastically, "She got kidnapped too from that bar and is being held captive in the Captain's quarters." He rolled his eyes and shook his head in disgust.

Jim snorted, "she couldn't be quiet long enough to be kidnapped or held captive anywhere." He thought, "I know a lot of red heads. Give me another clue."

"Ok, she works near the docks in Washington," Artie said, watching his partner's face. "Still no? How about she owns a warehouse?" Jim shook his head tiredly. "Damn, you used to be good at this. Hope you're not losing your intelligence with all this manual labor." Jim's blue eyes glared at him in the darkness, the light flickering in his eyes. "How about she used to hang out with a giant named Tiny?"

Jim's eyes flew open at that clue, "Rose?" He hissed, under his breath, "Rose, from the warehouse? She owned the warehouse after her husband and evil father-in-law were killed? And Tiny?" He sat up, staring straight ahead now, almost talking to himself, "how the hell did Rose end up on this ship? And she is really married this time? She must have met this fellow at the docks or the warehouse."

"She seemed happy and comfortable," Artie said, "and had a good appetite."

"Did she recognize you," Jim asked.

"Yes, she did," Artie said, "she was very surprised. And I mentioned you were here too," Artie added. "She liked the shark and I said you had killed it." He paused, thinking, "I am sure if the Captain was busy on the deck, you or I, or both of us, could get into the Captain's room and take a look around without her sounding an alarm." Jim nodded, silently, lost in thoughts of his own. "I would like a gun, my own would be nice," Artie muttered. "He mentioned wine and brandy being there." He took a deep breath, "well it's good to have a friend on board, even if she hasn't been here long and may not know a lot of details."

"She might know his plans for the future," Jim said, "while the crew knows what has happened in the past. I would like to see some maps and know more about where we are stopping. If these islands are populated and ships visit them, could we stay on the islands and wait for another ship. A military ship would be good…"

"Depending on who's military ship it is," Artie said quietly.

"Oh, even a British military ship would get us back to American eventually," Jim said, "though I don't want to be part of the crew." He looked over at his partner, "do you have any money on you?"

Artie turned a surprised look to Jim, "in my jacket, where ever that is, hidden inside the liner," he said, "why? Going shopping?"

"We might be able to buy tickets home," Jim said, still thinking, "and I bet your jacket is in the Captain's quarters. Along with our other articles of clothing and firearms." He stood, wiping his mouth on the back of his now tattered white shirt tails. "Well I am going to help the guys. We will think about Rose tomorrow and searching her husband's quarters." He paused, watching his partner stand on the ever tilting deck. "You know what this means?" Artie shook his head. "This means that this is the second time I have been kidnapped by one of her husbands."

Artie stood too, though more slowly, chucking, "I guess it does, at that. It's a habit we need to stop." He squeezed a hand on Jim's shoulder, "I'm going to check on Charlie. I sent him below to cut some meat into long strips. We are going to dry some so it stores longer."

They moved apart, disappearing into the darkness in opposite directions.

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[

The sunlight threw a pink hue on the white sails as the cloth was dropped down the masts and wrapped in long ropes. Men scurried around, busily putting tools into the long boats. Others carried empty crates forward with the hopes that they will soon be filled with food for their journey at sea.

"Jim," Artie whispered, as he stood shoulder-to-shoulder with his partner, "if you find a good hiding spot or see an opportunity…"

"We already talked about this," Jim growled, not looking back at his friend, "I'm not leaving you. We stick together. Besides, there might actually be head hunters on the island. You wouldn't want me to end up as someone's main course, would you?"

"There isn't enough meat on you to be a main course," Artie chuckled, "soup, maybe." They paused as the first mate bellowed down from an upper deck at the sailors. "Besides, the Captain was just saying that to keep the men from running away. He would send more men armed with weapons if it was that dangerous. He needs food supplies."

"If we carried the collection of antique sharp sticks with us," Jim sneered, "then we couldn't carry back crates of food." He started to step away but Artie grabbed his elbow and slide something into his hand. Jim looked down at his palm to see a short butter knife sharpened on one end to a long, wicked looking point. "And I thought you spent all the time in the galley planning our meals." He tucked the blade into his waistband of his pants, in a small secretive pocket. He smacked Artie in the shoulder as he moved away again, "Now stop worrying and I'll be back with the rest of them." He moved forward toward his longboat as his crewmates gathered.

"Why don't you let ole Jim here carry that thunderstick," On man yelled out at Stone. "Your man Wolvertin is so sun blind he couldn't spot the bloody island. Do you think he can shoot a wild pig?" The others yelled and whistled, not all in good humor, as Stone shook his great fist at them.

"Jim saw the island first," another man yelled out, "he sees everything a week or two before we do. Eyes like a jungle cat, he has!" The men punched Jim in the shoulders and jostled him as they crowded the deck. Men at the railing began lowering the boats down.

Stone glared at them, "you all don't get guns. You might hurt yourselves and that would make the Captain sad." He snarled, "so just do what you're told and carry your crates like a bunch of old women!"

The longboats dropped into the water and the men scrambled down the ropes on the ship's flanks, quickly gaining seats and grabbing up the oars. The boat Jim was in was piled high with wooden crates, a few of which had to be moved so the oars could be used. "So what's on this island to eat?" Jim twisted his head around to see where they were going. Waves crashed on a long, white beach with dense green underbrush beyond. Farther back were thickets of palms and palmettos. "I hope there are some trails cut, that looks like thick woods."

"Thick with spiders and snakes too," a man nearby yelled out, "not to mention head hunters!"

"There ain't no such thing," another voice yelled out. "Besides I don't see any heads in this boat pretty enough to hunt for except maybe Jim's head with all that hair of his! I used to have hair," the man said, slapping a hand on his bare scalp. "But all the pretty girls pulled it out!"

The men roared with laughter as they dug the oars deeper into the water. The longboats were quickly at the crest of the waves. "Up," the yell came from Rowdy in the front of the boat and the oars tipped up. The long boats slide over the waves and shot up the beach. "Out", then men all jumped over the sides, some barely getting their feet wet as they moved up the sand.

Jim stood, squinting into the sunlight as his eyes searched the foliage. "You have been here before?" He asked, looking at Rowdy and the older men, "are we trying to go anywhere in particular?" The other longboat slid onto the beach nearby and the men scrambled out. "Do we split up or go together?"

"We only have the one gun now," Rowdy said quietly, nodding toward Wolvertin, the man holding the rifle. "It was a lot easier to hunt when we all carried a gun," he sighed. He shook his head and lead his group to join the other men. He nodded toward the long rifle, "have you shot that before, Wolvertin?"

"Ya," the tall man said lazily, squinting into the bright sunlight. "I know how ta use it." He shook a leather satchel that was slung over his chest and shoulder. "I got plenty of shot and powder in here. We can get us a mess of pigs."

Jim peered at the long gun, noting the flint in the lock. He sighed, thinking of his accurate rifle and how fast the repeating lever action could shoot. "This is a flint lock? I haven't shot one of those since I was a kid. I never thought I would be hunting with it."

"Well you ain't," Wolvertin snarled, backing up a step. "I is. Stone gave this here rifle to me." The men crowded around, making a circle. "I've shot it and I can hit a pig on a dead run with it."

"Fine, glad to hear it," Jim said, nodding to the man, "let's go find some then." He turned to Rowdy, "you leading?" Rowdy nodded and turned to the thick underbrush. The other boatload of men separated from them, carrying empty crates, and moved into the thick jungle in the other direction.

[

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Artie stood, peering over the railing until the group of men in the far distance moved into the thick jungle of vegetation on the island. Shaking his head, he moved down the decks. Only a few men were left on board now, mostly the old and invalid sailors that relaxed around the nets. Stone had gone toward the Captain's cabin, leaving a relieved quiet over the ship.

"Guess we miss the excitement of the chase," Tully cackled, smiling up at Artemus with his toothless grin. "They will have a heck of a time tracking in that thick woods. And the snakes," he said, nudging his friends, "eh, ever seen a sidewinder? Once I saw…"

"Ya, ya," another old man snapped as he peered at a frayed knot, "you've seen just about everything. See if you can fix that." He shoved part of the net closer to Tully.

Artie kneeled down next to them, clearing his throat, "I was hoping you all could let me in on a secret." He paused, waiting for the old eyes to turn to him. "I was told by the Captain," he continued, his voice a whisper, "that some of you knew about the cannons on board. How they worked and where the powder and shot are." His dark eyes watched the two old men, waiting.

"Why do you want to know about those old things," Tully said, looking back at the tough fibers. "Nothing but trouble, those things are. Better off without them ole cannons and guns…"

"Now Tully," Artie said, clicking his tongue, "what if the pirates came right now. Most of the men are all on the island. It would be hard for us to do any hand to hand fighting, wouldn't it?" The old men wouldn't meet his eyes. "I just want to clean the cannon and test fire them. Where are the powder and shot?"

Tully squinted up at Artie, "you know how to run them iron dragons? Hate to lose a good cook just as my dinner is getting better." He cackled in a dry laugh as Artie nodded.

"Where 'ave you shot cannon before," the other man said, his eyes sharper than Tully's. "You in the war, when the north invaded America?" Artie nodded. "You're a northerner too, I can tell by the way ya talk." He spit on the deck and shook his head. "Might's well show him, Tully," he growled, "them Northerners just never give up once they made up their minds to do a thing."

"All right, I will show you." He dropped the netting and reached out for help, letting Artie pull him to his feet. He swayed and tottered with the rolling ship, making it to an open doorway leading to the ladders. Artie followed the older man as they climbed down the decks to the lower levels of the ship.

"Shoot it!" Jim yelled again as the black beast darted between the men. "When it goes through a clearing, you have to get a shot off. You can't wait for it to be running around our ankles!" He stood, fists on hips, glaring at the man holding the gun. The hot sun filtered down through the wide, green leaves over their heads as they stood in the jungle. Sweat smeared his face, as it did all the men, as they crushed forward in a tight group.

"Give Jim the damned gun, Wolvertin," Rowdy said, "We won't tell Stone if you don't." Wolvertin stepped back, holding the gun tight to his chest. "We've had three boar run past and you haven't even gotten a shot off yet, much less hit one."

"I ain't wasting the shot," the man snarled back, "we aint' got all that much and I don't want to miss. We need to find one standing still." He tapped an open palm on the leather satchel slung low across his chest.

"Oh, right," Jim snapped, "because that's what wild pigs do when a gang of men is tramping through the underbrush. Stand around and wait for someone to shoot them. We'll be going back with all the shot and powder at this rate, since you won't shoot the damned gun."

"I'll shoot," Wolvertin said, glaring at everyone in turn. "I'll get plenty of pigs. We just need to sneak up on them. You all make too much noise. You don't know how to hunt!"

Jim took a deep breath and took a few steps back, as Rowdy stepped between them to speak softy, "Look, we don't have all day. It'll be dark soon and I …"

Rowdy was interrupted with another crashing sound, which all day had heralded the approach of a wild pig. The men turned and separated, moving away from Wolvertin to give him room to shoot. The pig, a large male with long tusks, burst from the thickets close by, behind some men. The animal seemed to run toward the group instead of away, as the smaller ones had previously. The tusks cut into a man's leg as the animal raced past. The man screamed in pain as blood burst out, spraying the vegetation.

"Shoot!" Jim yelled, pulling Artie's homemade knife from his hidden pocket. He gripped it in his right hand, hoping the pig would run close enough for him to stab it with the small blade, desperate for a kill. The boar was a black streak running around the men.

"Wait," Wolvertin yelled out, the rifle held at his hip as he tried to aim the barrel at the crazed animal. "It's moving too fast! I'll get it when its running away!"

The pig had other plans. Almost sensing the most serious danger was the armed sailor, the pig turned and charged Wolvertin. The man snapped the long rifle up to his shoulder but he was much too slow. The pig was already too close, running underneath the long barrel, straight into the tall man's legs. The pig knocked him down and began head butting the man, the tusks cutting into his legs and arms. Wolvertin twisted on the ground crying out in pain and fear, trying to push the animal away or kick it.

Jim darted forward and grabbed up the rifle from the ground where it was dropped. He pulled the flint back and put the barrel almost onto the animal's side. With a pull of the trigger, the musket's double bang exploded and the heavy, lead ball pushed into the animal. The pig squealed and rolled onto its side and lay still. Jim stepped back and instantly began blowing down the rifle's smoking barrel to clear it of burnt debris.

Rowdy ran forward to help Wolvertin sit up. Other men pulled the dead pig back, out of the way. They pulled spare bits of cloth from pockets and began ripping long strips for bandages. Wolvertin gasped in pain and pushed them away, fighting them. "Stop, man, you're bleeding," Rowdy whispered, his stomach lurching at the site of all the blood. "We need to get you back to the ship," Rowdy said, trying to hold the man still. "Stop complaining when people are trying to help you."

"Quit your damned bellyaching," Jim snapped, "You should have shot quicker if you didn't want to get torn up. When you need to shoot, you shoot, not talk." He handed the homemade knife to another man, "gut that pig out. The meat will spoil fast in this heat." He leaned over and pulled the leather, possible bag off the wounded man. "You won't need that now. We can split up. Some can carry him back to the beach with the pig. I'll take another guy with me and keep hunting." He nodded to the man who was quickly and efficiently cutting up the pig. "You look like you can handle a knife."

"Butcher," the man said quietly, "in my past life." The guts spilled out onto the ground and he wiped the inside of the animal with a handful of leaves. "That should do it until it can get cleaned by the cook." He looked up at Jim, "that feller going to be able to cook a wild boar?"

Jim nodded, "he can cook anything." He opened the bag and pulled out the powder horn. Tipping it into the barrel, he added powder. Then he dug in the bag for the solid mini ball. As if he performed the mundane task of reloading a black powder rifle every day, Jim was soon ramming the ball down the barrel. He tipped the rifle upright and added more powder to the pan. He snapped the pan shut and put everything back into the bag. "Let's go shoot him another pig to cook. I don't like sharing meat."

[

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Artie leaned over the old cannon, digging into the fuse hole slowly with a sharp stone. Dried pieces of black powder residue fell away as he cleaned. The slanted rays of the late afternoon sun shone onto the metal giving the dirt a pink glow. He paused to rub at the raised lettering, squinting again in an attempt to read the old script. "Carron Company…" Artie squinted, leaning closer, his body moving easy now with the roll of the ship, "Falkirk, Scotland." He stood up and leaned back, looking more closely at the short, squat cannon. "So, this is a carronade? Larger than I imagined. Good for a closer fight, I suppose," he muttered to himself. His eyes looked at the smooth wooden runners the heavy cannon sat on and then to the ropes that secured the back. "I bet you've knocked a few sailors on their ass," he chuckled, leaning back over the touch hole again. He blew down into the hole, wondering if he had it clear yet. "This would be easier with a long wire or needle," he muttered to himself, picking again at the burnt debris, "but a spark, my dear Artemus, would be messy."

He stood up as footsteps approached to see Tully carrying a small cloth bag. "We still got a dozen or more of these," the old man wheezed. "Have to store them below to keep the water off them and in case of a fire," he chuckled, "hate to blow the ship to Kingdom come."

"At least a dozen, you say?" Artie nodded, looking across the deck to the opposite side. Another matching cannon stood, ready to load, on its carriage, barrel at the gun port. "All that powder and we have shot," he added, looking at the piles of solid cannon balls. "Eight pounder?" Tully nodded. "Well that would get the attention of any pirate ship that got close enough to board. Why weren't these kept in use?"

Tully put the cloth bag carefully onto the deck. "We had crews trained but either the men left the crew," he winked, "for various reasons, or the equipment broke. Both cannonades were fitted with lanyards for firing but both broke. So we just used the old slow match but the holes were always plugged," he shrugged, "Cannons take a lot of work to keep clean, especially when not used much, and the hot salty air." He paused, rubbing his jaw, "And now this Stone, he don't like us near anything that we can kill him with. Knives, guns, cannon," he spit on the deck in disgust. "This was a good ship before the Captain brought him and his kind on board. But it's an old ship and we do business the old way. Young people don't want to work nowadays so good crewmen are hard to come by, especially for this kind of back-breaking work. The Captain either hires bad men or," he grinned, nodding to Artie, "acquires better men."

Artie laughed, shaking his head. "So what happens to the bad crewmembers"

Tully sat on the deck, his old knees snapping as they bent. "Bad men become good men or they are transferred to other ships. Everyone needs additional crew and not everyone is as choosey as our Captain how they act or how they are treated. Our Captain doesn't like to flog or injure anyone so he needs men who will work from their own free will and sense of accomplishment. Anyone who is in need of a good flogging or hanging even, is just traded for supplies somewhere else. Sometimes we even leave them to work on plantations on islands where they grow the cane for sugar." He grinned up at Artie, "ever seen a cane plantation? Interesting work. I done it," he said, his old eyes lost in memory, "course by now, I done most everything." He nodded, absently now, almost to himself, "yes, seen all, done all. You will too after a few years on this ship."

Artie looked away, back to the cannon, muttering, "not me. Got to be some way off…" he noticed movement on the beach and leaned out the port, squinting into the setting sun. He quickly counted heads in the far distance as the men were gathering near the long boats. "One missing," he muttered, trying to look at all the men as they moved around on the sand. He finally decided one was Jim, just making out a white shirt and dark pants, standing with the usual hands on hips. The long gun was slung over his shoulder. "Well, are you done, James, my boy?" He watched as objects were loaded onto the two long boats, unable to see from this distance what they were. His heart skipped a beat as he watched two men being helped into a boat. "Damn," he breathed, shaking his head. Then the two long boats were pushed into the water by men but, instead of jumping into the boats, the men walked back to the shore. And Jim was still standing back, separated by a few yards, still with the rifle.

"God dammit," Artie snapped, stepping away from the hull and turning to Tully, "The longboats are coming back but some of the men are staying on the beach. And I'm sure there is one man missing!"

Tully stood slowly, pulling himself to his feet with the aid of the cannon's carriage. "We'll go meet the boats and ask the men what is happening."

"It must be a man lost," Artie said, stepping forward quickly to help the old man. "If a man was dead, they would all come back."

Tully squinted up at Artie, "and your friend must be staying back to search," he nodded, "why you are worried? He's a good man, that Jim, a good man." He turned to the stairs, "but the men will tell us."

Artie let out a long sigh and walked slowly behind the old man. " _Dammit, Jim, can't you just once not be the hero?"_

[

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Jim stood on the beach with his back to the jungle and watched Rowdy and the other man push the longboats into the foaming surf. The oars flashed in the setting sun as the men began to row toward the ship. The narrow wooden boats cut through the waves and quickly moved out into deeper water. The two men moved to join him.

"They'll bring a boat back with lanterns," Rowdy said, "so we can find our way back to the beach once it gets dark."

"They'll be no use searching after dark," Jim sighed, "we will only have a few minutes to find him, especially in the thicker areas. And the sun is almost down already." He turned to look back at the trees. "Where did they come out of? And they didn't even see when he disappeared?"

"Holliday is a sneaky bastard," Rowdy said, spitting on the sand. "He's been so silent lately that I barely pay attention to him. He complained a lot when he first was on the ship but now does enough work to keep out of any real trouble; just stays to himself. But he must have been planning this all along."

"That's why the Captain warned about head hunters?" Jim turned to look back at Rowdy. "Are there actually such a thing? Here?"

The younger man took a deep breath and let it out slowly, finally shrugging, "I don't know. Ole Tully talks about it but he talks about a lot of shit; I don't believe half of what he says."

"But if even half of it is true," Jim grinned, "well, we will try. If we can't find him tonight, we can come back tomorrow in the daylight. I don't want to spend the night on this island and miss the pig roast." He turned and plunged down a path, not really knowing where to go. "And if Holliday is hiding from us, we won't find him anyway in this thick shit."

Rowdy followed behind with the man who had cut up the pigs. "I hope he finds the head hunters. They would probably keep the bastard as their new leader." The third man followed silently, watching for the missing man as they moved.

[

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tbc


	8. Chapter 8 When Rescuers Need Rescue

Chapter 8. When Rescuers Need A Rescue

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Jim knelt at the edge of the stream, dipping a hand into the cold water and bringing some to his lips. It had been weeks since he had tasted fresh clean water instead of the stale water stored on the ship in wooden barrels. He repeated the action as the older man approached. Jim looked up, squinting into the dim light. "Any luck?"

The man shrugged, "a few branches broken, leaves tore up; could be anything, man or another pig." He stared at Jim, their shadows lengthened to eerie shapes on the ground.

"You tried," Jim sighed, standing. He put a hand on the man's shoulder. "Tracking in a heavy forest in fading light is not easy, besides…" He paused, giving the man a lopsided smile, "you know I have to confess. I have completely forgotten your name."

"Miller," the older man said, nodding. "That's all right, there's a bunch of us on that ole ship."

Rowdy whispered to them, "I found a foot print," he said, pointing at the ground. "I think, at least that's what it looks like." Jim and Miller turned and hurried to the indicated spot. Rowdy held a tree branch to one side, letting more light in. "See that? A heel and toes?"

Miller nodded as Jim looked forward, his eyes spotting a line of broken branches, "Looks like he hurried ahead through this thick brush. We can try to keep following but it will be dark soon. Will the men stay in the boat with the lanterns when they get back to the beach or try to follow us?"

Rowdy shrugged, "I asked them to stay near the boat. A few might try to follow. Not sure how many will actually come back from the ship after they drop the pigs off." He stared at Jim, "this isn't really our line of work, you know. I don't really hunt men; I can barely hunt pigs and whales."

Jim nodded, knowing these men had been taken from their normal lives, forced to be sailors, and now he was asking them to follow him into this disaster. He took a deep breath, "just follow me. I won't ask you to do any fighting but I might need some back up just the same." Miller and Rowdy nodded and fell in behind him as they moved forward.

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Artie handed Charley a long, heavy knife. A few men stood nearby, waiting with long metal rods and deep pans, as the pig carcasses lay on the deck in a smelly pile of blood and fur. The flies had already found them and swarmed around the warm meat and sweating sailors. "Ok, first we need to cut out more insides like the trachea and whatever is left behind. Someone gutted these out pretty well but we want them to be very clean so the meat doesn't spoil. Then we will cut the head off and I will show you what to do with the brains." Charley made a face and Artie laughed, "it's not that bad, I promise. A lot easier than cutting up a whale."

"Just get the things cleaned up and hand them over," a man yelled, his mouth all but drooling at the look of all the meat. "We got the fires burning down into coals and these spits are just waiting for them pigs. Let's get a move on."

Artie turned to wink at the men crowding behind him. "They aren't very large and won't take long to cook. Aren't you going to wait for the rest of the men to return? Besides I have other things to cook too? You just don't want to eat meat, do you?"

A loud outburst of "YES" exploded around him. Charley grinned, hefting his knife. "Guess we better get at it!"

Artie slapped his shoulder and started to cut the head off the first pig.

[

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"I don't believe this," Jim hissed under his breath. Rowdy and Miller knelt on either side of him, their eyes wide with fear. Ahead of them, men danced around a huge fire. The light flickered in the thick trees and brush making dancing shadows behind the tribesmen. The men wore bits of cloth around their mid-section and feathers were stuck in their hair. But they didn't appear to be any Indian tribe similar to anything Jim had seen before.

Jim looked up into the tree branches. Small dark objects hung from branches in the woods all around them, almost swaying with the voices raised in chanted song. They had passed them as they had approached this area. The dark objects appeared to be human heads but they were oddly small. Rowdy followed his gaze, "they can't be real heads, can they?"

"I have no idea," Jim mouthed, barely whispering. He looked behind them and around to either side as far as he could see into the night. "And I have no idea how to get him out…" he said, squinting across the fire lit circle at the man sitting on the ground. The man's large, bare feet were clearly seen but the rest of him was in shadow. He appeared to be sitting upright. Occasionally, as the tribesmen danced past and the fire light flickered just the right way, a head bent down over a chest could be seen for an instant. Jim looked again at the dark woods. "I'll have to sneak around in a wide circle, cut him free, and get the hell out of there. If he can't walk, I'll carry him and run for the beach."

"In the dark?" Rowdy whispered, shocked at what Jim was proposing. "What if you get caught? Or lost?"

Jim turned to look at the younger man. "Listen to me, Rowdy," his said sternly, resting a hand on the young man's shoulder. "Listen very closely to what I am going to tell you." He paused as Rowdy swallowed hard. "If I get caught, do not…" he said, squeezing the man's shoulder, "do not try to save me. Get back to the ship and bring Artemus here. Understand?"

Rowdy nodded but Miller snickered, still watching the tribesmen. "What's an ole cook gonna do ta save ya?" His breath caught in his throat as Jim's blue eyes turned to him.

Jim whispered, looking at both men, "you would be surprised at what that ole cook can do." He released Rowdy and backed up a few steps. "Wait here, I might be right back. You will either help with Holliday or run to the longboat for more help. You'll know what to do very soon," He moved off into the darkness.

[

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Artemus stood at the railing at the back of the ship, tipping small wooden buckets into the sea. The dorsal fins of the huge sharks broke through the waves as the guts from the pigs dropped into the water. Great splashes erupted as the beasts fought over the bits of windpipe, lungs, and hide. Another bucket held pieces of bones from the skulls he had broken to get to the brain matter. He dumped these over as well, suspecting they would sink before the sharks got them. "Filthy bastards," he whispered, shaking his head, "I suppose you need to eat too. Aunt Maud, you always said to feed all of God's creatures, but I wish He hadn't made these guys." He scraped the remaining bits out of the bucket with a heavy, and wickedly-sharp, kitchen knife.

A shout from further down the ship caught Artie's attention. He quickly tucked the knife inside the lose waistband of his pants, pushing the sharp blade into a hidden, hand-made leather sheath that hung against his thigh. He turned to walk down the ship's deck. The buckets were left in a loose pile by the railing, already forgotten.

"You men," Stone was shouting over the railing, waving with his huge hand. As Artie approached, he could see the longboat floating on the low waves. "You men have fooled around enough for one wasted day! Get aboard now or I'll climb down and get you myself", Stone continued. A few other sailors were also approaching the railing, curious to see what the First Mate was yelling about. Blaine was with the group, worry clear on his young face.

"But Jim and Holliday," Rowdy's voice was pleading, from the longboat. "They're still on the island!"

"And a good place for them," Stone yelled back. "It's been a fool's errand. Holliday is no good and West shouldn't have risked himself."

"But we need to get Jim back! We can't just leave them behind." Artie leaned over the railing to see that Rowdy had climbed halfway up the rope mesh that hung on the edge of the hull. A few men were in the lifeboat holding large lanterns. The waves rocked the boat, banging it against the ship's side.

"You'll not waste more good men going after bad!" Stone snarled, shaking his great fist. "Now climb up, all of you, or else!"

Rowdy's voice screeched even higher, in panic now, "All I NEED IS ARTEMUS! JIM SAID TO BRING HIM BACK!" Rowdy looked sideways straight into Artie's eyes. He choked, shocked to see him at the railing. "They have Jim," Rowdy waved, "the head hunters!"

Stone also turned, seeing Artemus at the railing. "You, don't move! And that's an order!"

Artie immediately leaped onto the railing of the rolling ship, his bare toes finding enough purchase to stand. Without a word to the First Mate or a glance at the other sailors behind him, Artie dove head first into the waves. He resurfaced and swam a few strokes, quickly reaching the longboat. He grabbed the edge of the slippery wood and tried to pull himself up, visions of the sharks in the back of his mind. Struggling, as the sailors grabbed at his wrists, he heard a loud splash behind him. He exploded with a burst of strength, pulling himself over the edge and toppling into the bottom of the boat. He twisted around to look over the edge with eyes, searching for the dreaded grey fins of the sharks, but instead saw another head and arms flailing in the water. Artie reached over and grabbed a thin wrist, easily pulling the man onto the boat, to join him in the dirty water between the seats. "Blaine? What are you doing?"

The young man coughed up sea water and wiped his face, "I wanted to help save Jim. I can't believe how mad the First Mate was. Jim's the best man on the ship," he said, looking at the other men in the longboat, "exceptin' all of you too." The men laughed and slapped at the young man's shoulders, pulling him up onto a seat.

"You're as brave as Jim," Artie said, sitting next to Blaine. "But Jim is trained to live in danger because of his work. You all," he paused, looking at Rowdy and the others. "None of you are but you all still work together." The men looked at their feet in embarrassment. "Rowdy, tell me what happened and what we need to do."

"Well it's like this," Rowdy said, "Holliday run off and hid from his group that was out collecting wild onions. Blaine's group it was." Blaine nodded in agreement but stayed silent. "And Jim and Miller and I stayed back to search from him. We managed to find him in that ole thick jungle but we found trouble too. A tribe of head hunters had already found ole Holliday first. Had him tied up and were dancing around a fire near him. Jim went to try to free him but got caught too." He grinned, "it was a fight I had never seen the likes of before. I thought he would whoop the whole tribe! But one came up behind him and smacked him on the head and down he went." Rowdy paused, shuddering, "and off Miller and I went for you. Jim said not to try to save him if he got caught. He made us agree we would get you but…"

"No, Jim was right," Artie said, "if you had all been caught, no one would have known what happened. And he and I do this all the time…" he grinned, looking at the shocked faces of the men. "Really, Jim loves this, though we haven't tangled with head hunters before. But plenty of Indians." He looked around the boat, "where is Miller?" An edge of worry entered his voice.

Rowdy turned and pointed back toward the island. In the distance was a single light. "He is on the beach guiding us back."

"Ok," Artie whispered, "this is what we're all going to do. Now listen closely…" The men all leaned closer as the longboat moved slowly forward through the darkness, the oars flashed in the moon's light.

[

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Jim kept his head down and his eyes shut as he listened; silence, except for Holliday nearby whining and gasping. Jim peeked open one eye and then the other, careful not to move and draw attention to himself. Being knocked out had given him a pounding head ache but he had learned over the years to wake up without moving in case he was still in danger.

He picked up his head slowly, squinting into the darkness. The fire was nothing but a pile of glowing coals. The tribesmen were sprawled on the ground nearby, apparently sound asleep. Jim tugged at his bonds and twisted his shoulders. His hands moved stiffly and his fingers seemed numb. He squinted up at the sky, trying to gauge how long he had been unconscious. How long would it take for Rowdy to get back to the ship and bring Artemus back, he wondered; if Rowdy was still alive and if he could get Artie off the ship. Stone was a huge obstacle, literally, but he knew his partner's anger was building. If Artie knew his partner needed him, Stone wouldn't be able to stop him.

As if on cue, a loud snap sounded behind his back. Jim grinned and stole a look at Holliday. The man seemed oblivious to everything but his own dark plight. Another crack sounded and Jim looked over his shoulder. A dark shape was moving behind him in the thick jungle of leaves. "Can't you be quiet?" he said, a smile at the corners of his mouth.

Artie suddenly appeared behind his shoulder, "You think you can do better," Artie whispered, pulling the knife from his pants, "I'll go back to the ship and let you free yourself, if you want. I am trying to cook for a large group, you know." He gave his partner a wink and leaned over to work on the bindings. "Damn woven vine is denser than rope," he muttered "Almost through. How's Holliday?"

"Keeps yelling about how they are going to cut us up for lunch," Jim whispered. "He's been quiet lately. And so have the dancers. You came at a good time."

Artie cut through the vines and moved behind Holliday, "I hope that idiot can run when I cut him loose."

"He'll run or we'll drag him," Jim hissed, rubbing his wrists as Artie worked. He silently rolled to his knees and then his feet, keeping his eyes on the tribesmen. No one stirred. He turned and grabbed Holliday's left elbow as Artie grabbed his right, keeping the knife in his free hand. Jim leaned close to Holliday's face, whispering, "We are going to run for the ship. Understand? Don't make a sound." The man nodded and tried to climb to his feet. He stumbled and wobbled on stiff legs, after being tied for so long. The group moved into the thick woods and moved down the path.

The light from the moonlight was strong and showed the many broken branches now of the often used path. In a few steps, the lantern light could also be seen far ahead. Two figures suddenly appeared in the path and Jim pushed Holliday and Artie behind him. He braced his feet and drew his right fist back, ready to fight.

"No," Artie snapped, "Its Rowdy and Blaine." Jim visibly relaxed again. "One of my smoother rescues, if I must say," grinning at the group. The men relaxed but kept up the pace, walking toward the light. A scream tore through the night, far behind them. Holliday twisted in terror, pulling at Jim and Artie's grasp. "It's them! Run!"

"Stay with us," Jim snapped, pulling the man forward.

The group broke into a run down the path as other screams sounded behind them. They burst out of the woods onto the sand. Miller was holding the lantern high in the air and waving to them. Two men were still in the long boat with the oars ready, nose of the longboat already turned toward the ocean. Artie and Jim pulled Holliday, as they all stumbled in the deep sand, to the boat. They shoved the man over the edge and began pushing on the heavy longboat. Miller jumped in and moved to the point with the lantern shining toward the ship now. Rowdy and Blaine helped push and the large boat was quickly floating on the breaking waves. The group jumped into the boat as the tribesmen appeared on the beach.

"Oh, great," Artie moaned, "they are crazy looking!" The dark bodies of the men were covered with bits of paint and feathers. They shook fists in anger toward the men in the boat and one ran into the water in pursuit. The long boat was already cutting though the waves into deeper water and the man soon turned back to the beach.

"They look hungry," Jim said, smacking his partner on the shoulder. "Still, one of your better rescues. Thanks for coming after me, as usual." He turned to the other men, "and thank you all for helping me. I wasn't looking forward to being their next meal."

"Do you really think they would have eaten you?" Blain sat closer, keeping in the bottom of the boat. He looked to Holliday, as the man sat upright, leaning heavily against a seat.

"Look at my arms," Holliday moaned, holding out his arms. White paint marks covered his skin, "my legs were marked too but it has washed off. It's where they were going to cut me up!" His voice rose into a screech.

Rowdy patted his shoulder, "all right, you're safe now. But this is what the Captain said about staying together. He warned you." He looked to Jim and Artemus. "And now let's hope the Captain welcomes us back as heroes and not deserters."

They all exchanged a worried look and watched the dark ship grow larger as they approached. The railings were lined with men, the tallest being the Captain, on his separate deck. The brute of a First Mate could also be seen, great fists on hips, waiting for them.

"Whatever the Captain says or does to us, it's still better than being lunch to that tribe," Jim whispered to Artie. His partner didn't look convinced.

tbc


	9. Chapter 9 A Little Vacation

Chapter – A little vacation time

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Jim moved across the galley, squinting in the dim light of the burning wall scones. Smells of the roasted pork were everywhere, the tables still covered with plates piled high with old bones and chewed gristle. A few on the younger sailors were helping Charley by collecting dirty dishes and wiping tables. Jim moved between the men and sat down next to Artemus on the bench in a quiet corner of the large room. He grinned as his friend turned to him, "very clever of you to bring food for three to the Captain's quarters this evening."

Artie shrugged, "I know how long winded you get when you are in important meetings with our superior officers. And you almost missed dinner once already today so I thought you might as well eat with the Captain." His dark eyes scanned the room, making sure no one was close enough to hear them. He lowered his voice, "so what happened? What did he say?"

Jim ran the tip of his right index finger over the rough wooden table, staring down as if trying to remember. "Oh, the Captain sends his compliments for the pork roast of course…"

"Ya, ya," Artie growled, "of course, but what did he say about us? Didn't you ask about getting off this ship? Or does he consider us too valuable now to lose?"

Jim nodded slowly, "I think he does find us too valuable to lose. He hinted that someone is leaving this ship soon though but I think it's going to be Holliday. The guy is a pain in the ass but I don't want to see him tossed overboard or left behind on an island." He let out a long sigh and looked at Artemus, "he said we are stopping at another island in a few days. A large island with sugar plantations where ships frequently resupply and trade goods. It was the type of place I was waiting for; the place that would be the best to escape onto. However he explained to me that the Governor of the island, a guy named Scott, is equipped with tracking hounds and hunters who are experts at finding," he snickered, thinking back, "finding deserters. And the punishments sounded harsh. Even if we avoided the trackers, we would have to survive with the islanders until a friendly ship arrived, which could take months. I think we had better think of something else."

Artie watched the changing emotions running over his partner's face, from anger, to disappointment, and then almost despair. "Something will happen eventually," he said quietly, "it always does. We just need to stick together and be ready."

"Ya," Jim said, staring at the table top without really seeing it. "How long has it been now?" His voice was so low Artemus almost didn't hear him.

"Three months," Artie said quietly, moving his forearms onto the table, "and ten days." He leaned over and placed his forehead onto his crossed wrists. "And you know what Richmond does when it's over three months," his said, his voice muffled by his arms, "and that's when agents are on a case."

"I know," Jim whispered, "we must have just disappeared. But our families will understand. It's not the first time my mother will have a message from the government about me missing in action. And your family will barely pause in their show business work to worry about you. But I had hoped to be back before it happened." He voice took on an edge, "Richmond must be looking for us. He knew we were working the docks and he would have contacted our navy, which should then contact the British and French navy too. Maybe when we get to this big trade island, someone will be waiting to pick us up."

Artie turned his head to peek an eye out at Jim, "ya, maybe Richmond will be standing on the dock waving to us." He lowered his head back to his hands.

"This is still temporary," Jim said, smacking Artie's back, "don't get too depressed. At least the Captain knows a little more about us. I told him we work for the Federal government and know the President personally."

Artie pushed himself back to a sitting position, curiosity suddenly returning. "You told him we know President Grant? And what did he say to your bragging and name dropping? Did he believe you?"

Jim grinned, "I'm not sure if he really believed me but he started complaining about all the business taxes he has to pay when he returns with the whale oil. I think he wants us to speak to Grant about reducing his tax burden. So, you see," he laughed, "he has to bring us back to America eventually."

"That's ridiculous," Artie laughed. "But if that's what it takes, we can look into the business tax laws. We just need to find a really large whale so we have enough oil to fill those damn flasks up!"

Jim nodded in agreement and the pair fell silent as their shipmates hurried over, their hands red and wet from washing with the strong lye soap. Rowdy was leading the way, his face eager with some new bit of ship news or idea, with Blaine and young Charley close at his heels. They dropped onto the benches and quickly surrounded the two agents.

"Isn't it great to be all back on board again," Rowdy burst out. "And all the food we have now. I have never eaten so well on board this ship before. You sure know how to cook, Artemus!" The other young sailors chimed in from across the room as they worked, with hearty yells of agreement. Artie's face turned red and Jim gave him a shove, laughing with the others.

"And did you tell Jim about how you escaped the ship when I came back?" Rowdy leaned over to see Jim, "luckily he was near the railing on the deck when I arrived. If I had to send men to get him from the galley, Stone would have stopped him from leaving the ship to help rescue you."

Artie's dark eyes hardened as his teeth clamped together. "No, he wouldn't have," he growled. Jim reached up to squeeze his friend's shoulder, knowing Artie would have not been prevented from coming after him.

Rowdy, not noticing their exchange, continued his story, "and did you hear how Artie dove off the railing way down into the waves? Right where all the sharks were feeding too," he exclaimed, making diving motions with his hands.

"No," Jim snapped, obviously not happy to hear that part of the story, "I hadn't heard that. Seems like someone should have stayed on board after all, no matter what happened." He pulled Artie closer with a handful of wore yellow shirt.

"Oh, right," Artie said, mocking his friend's seriousness. "And have you miss dinner? Or have you be dinner for that tribe?" He shoved Jim back, knocking him sideways on the bench. "Quit getting caught and I will quit having to come after you!"

Jim and the others all burst out laughing and Artie finally relaxed, joining them. He turned to the young man and wiggled his eyebrows, "if you knew all the tough spots I have had to rescue this guy from…"

"Tell tell!" Charley shouted with excitement. He turned to Rowdy, "Artemus tell me the best stories while we work in the galley!"

Jim snorted, "some of them might even be true." He sat, enjoying watching their young friends as Artie described some of their past cases.

[

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Next morning…

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Jim let out a long sigh as he watched the distant image float just within sight. "That's a huge island. Does no one see it but me?" He turned to Artie who was squinting into the fog. "You see it, don't you? This is getting embarrassing. I swear I am stuck on a ship with a bunch of blind people."

"Better than a ship of fools," Artie laughed, rubbing a hand to his eyes, "damned if I can see it." They both turned to look up the mast at Wolvertin in the crow's nest. Artie snapped, "he should be able to see over the fog if he would just turn around!" The man was barely visible at his post on the top of the main mast; slumped as if in sleep, as usual.

Jim caught Rowdy's eye down the deck and pointed toward the distant island, "Its right there. A huge island. Is that the one we are looking for?" He laughed as Rowdy and a slew of other men rushed the railing, all straining to look through the fog. "Just wait for the fog to part and you'll see it." As if on cue a gust of wind suddenly blew past, lifting the fog and filling the limp sails.

"Land Ho!" Wolvertin called out from the crow's nest. The sentry was now alert and pointing to the island. He looked down from his perch and yelled the alarm again.

"You're too late!" Rowdy shook his fist at the sailor far above him. "West saw it first! Again! And the rum goes to him this day!"

"Oh, let him have it," Jim chuckled. "Maybe it will help his vision to clear."

Rowdy came to stand near him, "doesn't matter anyway," he grinned, "they will be rum enough for all of us by tonight. I have been to this island. There are fires on the beach at night where the meat is roasted. And women!" He hopped up and down with excitement. "You've never seen women like they have here!"

"Are they different?" Jim turned a twinkling blue eye to Artie as his partner laughed. "I have seen a lot of women in my time and they generally all look the same. It's usually a difference in how friendly they are."

"Oh, these are very friendly," Rowdy grinned, leaning over to wink, "if you know what I mean." He turned to see the island again, as the ship approached quickly. "Look there, already they come to greet us!"

The rest of the crew rushed to the railing, leaving their posts, to wave and yell like madmen. Jim and Artie watched as scores of large canoes, with odd wooden side rails reaching across the water, approached the ship. Dozens of oars flashed in the sunlight and many hands waved up at them. As the canoes came alongside the ship it was obvious that the hot temperatures made it more comfortable for men and women to go without clothing, except for modest strips of cloth around the waist.

"I have never seen women dressed like that before," Jim whispered to Artie. "You?" Artie just shook his head, his eyes almost popping out of his face. "You know, after that last island fiasco, I wasn't sure I even wanted to get off the ship but I think I will after all." He waved down to a canoe full of scantily clad women with long dark hair. Round, smiling faces turned up to him and the girls all waved back. "Yes, I think I will like this island just fine."

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That evening…

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Artemus sat in the sand watching the bon fire at his feet. Two curvaceous girls with long dark hair each held onto one of his arms. One was leaning against his bare shoulder, nibbling his ear, and the other was running her fingers through his dark curls, pushing his hair back from his forehead.

"Hey, partner," Jim called out from his right, a few feet away. "I think we should stay here after all. Forget what I said earlier." He leaned over to kiss the cheek of a barely dressed girl who was siting close to him, her arms around his waist. The girl on the other side was holding a small hollowed-out coconut hull full of rum. He turned to her, sipping the rum as she held the rude cup to his lips.

"Well I'm not sure about forever," Artie laughed, "but definitely for a few days."

Suddenly a man's scream wrenched though the air. The two agents, and their crew mates around them, all turned in the same direction. A small knot of men were pushing and pulling a man along the beach from the water toward the dirt roadway which lead to distant buildings at the edge of the jungle.

"Holliday," Jim breathed. "I guess he's staying. I wanted to be able to talk to him at some point. Maybe we can find him tonight, after dark."

"What for," Artie asked quietly, "he wouldn't pay any attention to any advice you might give him now any more than before."

"Oh, I don't know," Jim snickered, "He might be taking things a little more seriously now." He turned to look at Artemus, "I wanted to convince him to live here and survive. I am hoping to someday send a ship to rescue him, after we rescue ourselves, of course." The girl on his right put the rum back to his lips, scolding him in some unknown language, while the other girl pushed against his side, kissing his neck. "But I don't think I need rescuing tonight."

Artie laughed as he returned his attention to the girls with him. Nearby Rowdy and Blaine were also with local girls. Charley was busy with long metal rods of skewered meat, poking them into the coals and turning them. Unseen, in the shadows, local men stood as if on guard, making a ring around the sailors and the women.

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Next morning…

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Jim awoke as the sun rose over the beach. He lay still for a long time, feeling the warm bodies of the two girls on either side of him. He could hear his partner snoring nearby. The sound of the waves was always present as a distant background noise but more voices drifted closer. His body stiffened, always ready for a fight, as men's voices approached. He opened his eyes and blinked, clearing his vision, trying not to move and draw attention to himself. He could just see men moving around the circle of sleeping sailors and women, as the center of the circle glowed with coals, still hot from the bon fire.

"What's happening?" Artie whispered. He rolled onto his side to face Jim, yawning, his dark eyes opening sleepily. His movements still simulated sleep as he became more alert. "Are they serving breakfast?"

"I'm not sure," Jim said softly. A girl shifted next to him, muttering in her sleep. He absently rubbed a hand over her back. "Men have been watching us since we arrived. Did you notice them last night? They stood just in the shadows all during the food and drinking after. I was half expecting to end up with Holliday at some point."

"I was watching them," Artie said, "I thought maybe they were related to the women to make sure no one was injured. I hadn't thought about being kidnapped again while I am already kidnapped." He watched as men walked behind Jim and himself, circling and talking quietly to themselves. The men seemed to be looking for someone as they paused to look at each man. "Maybe they are looking for workers for their sugar plantations."

"Then why don't they grab us," Jim muttered. "Half drunk and sound asleep would have been the time to do it. Little late now," he growled, as his shipmates were sitting up and rubbing their faces, yawning and beginning to move around.

"Maybe we don't look like good workers," Artie said. He pushed himself into a sitting position as the guards passed them by. "It would help if I could just understand their language. If I stayed here long enough, I could probably figure it out. It seems to be a mix of French and Spanish with other sounds thrown in."

"You know, I am really disappointed in you," Jim said, giving his partner a quick wink. "Knowing what the locals are saying is often more useful than the slick talk of the town leaders." He slowly sat up and watched the others nearby. Blaine was moaning and holding his head. Rowdy was sitting next to him looking dazed. "I think our young friends are not used to that much alcohol," he chuckled. He climbed to his feet and began brushing sand off the skin of his arms and chest. "I know I'm starving. If I am not being dragged off to the sugar cane fields, I want breakfast."

"Well there's the boss," Artie said, nodding to Stone who was quickly approaching their group. "I am sure we will be given our orders shortly." He slowly moved to his feet and stretched his back. He moved to Jim's side as they walked closer to their young friends. Keeping close together had become a habit now for all of them for self-preservation. "How are you two doing? I think you'll feel better if you move around." He leaned over and grabbed Rowdy's elbow, pulling him to his feet, as Jim did the same with Blaine. "Just move slowly."

Blaine moaned again and leaned heavily against Jim's side. "What happened?"

Jim grinned and wrapped a supporting arm around the young man. "You had a party and now are feeling the after effects. You'll get used to it."

"Let that be a lesson to you, young man," Artie joked, "women and alcohol are a dangerous mix. We really shouldn't repeat this type of behavior." Rowdy hiccuped and stood, swaying on unsteady feet. His eyes blinked as if he couldn't focus.

Jim laughed, poking a finger into Artie's shoulder, "You should talk. I didn't see you complaining last night," he said, "and I bet you weren't thinking about Christian either. You better keep last night a secret."

"All of this should be kept a secret," Artie said, glaring at his partner. "Besides, no one back home would believe any of this anyway. Richmond just thinks we're crazy and that we make up wild stories. Some days I don't know why I bother to write out reports."

"You won't need to write any of this down," Jim sighed, "unless you write your memoirs when you're old and grey; if we live that long, of course." He looked around, his eyes watching the others. Some of the girls were also just waking up while others were curled on their sides, sound asleep. The men who were awake were moving more quickly now that the First Mate was near them. "Everyone else seems ok, but I don't see Charley…"

Artie, alarmed at the missing boy, immediately began looking as far as he could see. "I hope he is just off cooking somewhere nearby." Before they could discuss further, Stone was in the circle of people by the fire shouting orders. Men groaned at the loud voice and staggered slowly into a line. Artie instinctively moved to stand next to Jim as Blaine and Rowdy stayed close.

Stone turned on the group of men in line. He paced with his hands on his hops glaring at them, his face purple with anger, as usual. He took a deep breath and bellowed, "If you have finished enjoying yourself on the Captain's time, the party is now over! You will have no more alcohol and no more women! It ends now! You will march to the sugar cane fields and work this day. Real work! No more relaxing on a ship!" He paced as he talked, glaring at each man as he passed.

Jim and Artie exchanged a glance while Stone's back was to them. "Fields?" Jim mouthed silently. Artie shrugged as Stone turned again. "Charley has cooked a quick breakfast of biscuits. You will take two as you walk past the table and continue walking until you are told to stop. Water will be provided when you arrive at the fields." The First mate stepped back and took a deep breath. "MARCH!"

The group moved forward, slowly, many on wobbly legs with feet dragging in the soft sand. As they stepped onto a road of packed dirt and broken shells, the pace increased, and they moved between small buildings down narrow streets. Eventually winding out of the town area, they suddenly approached a long wooded table with Charley standing behind it. The surface was covered with biscuits. Men grabbed at them as they walked past. Jim and Artie each grabbed their breakfast and grinned at Charley, as the young boy stood importantly behind his table of food.

The group moved further down the road, past fields of tobacco leaves. Jim and Artie ate as they walked, helping other men move, while keeping an eye on the guards. All the local men seemed armed with long knives attached to belts around the waist. Most glared at them silently but a few shook their fists and shouted in the unknown language. Jim glanced at his partner during one barrage of shouting and Artie just grinned and shrugged.

"I am guessing he is saying, 'I hate you. I hope you die a horrible death!' But I am just guessing," Artie said, nodding toward one guard who was walking alongside the group, shaking a long knife at them.

Jim let out a long sigh, "can I say I miss the ship?" Artie smacked him on the back as they approached a new field. As far as the eye could see, tall stalks appeared everywhere, on either side of the road. Dozens of men were busy swinging the long knives at tall plants. Other men were gathering the long stalks and stacking them in piles along the road. Pieces were strewn everywhere. Jim knelt quickly, picking up a short section. The sailors were suddenly stopped and lined up along the edge of the road as Stone moved back out of the way.

Jim peered down at the section of thick, woody stem. The center was light colored while the outside was a deep green. "Looks like bamboo but it isn't hollow," he said quietly, showing Artie. "At least it isn't difficult to cut. More like large grass. Must be sugar cane."

"Great," Artie whispered, "yet another useless skill to learn; harvesting sugar cane. I wonder if they are so shorthanded for field workers that they make all ship crews do this."

"Maybe while the ships are being restocked?" Jim shrugged, "I guess they don't need all of us to carry crates."

They quieted as a man approached, hands on hips, to glare down at them. The man was dressed like the guards but had a golden star emblem attached to his shirt and he was much less dirty than his fellow workers.

"I am called Zane!" He shouted, glaring at each man. "You have been given to me for the day to work the sugar cane fields while your ship is refitted and supplied. You will be given water now and more will be provided later, with food." He smiled, showing teeth that had been filed into sharp points. "We are not barbarians. We will reward you well for your good work." He nodded toward another guard standing nearby. These men were also dressed in clean uniforms with the golden star emblem. "These men will guard you to make sure you are not injured in your work. You will be given a machete to cut the canes with. If you attempt to cut a guard or a fellow worker, you will be shot."

The guard unslung a long rifle and held it out to the sailors as if to show them it was real. Jim studied the rifle curiously as Zane continued. "We are short workers on this island and all who visit are given rewards for work. Last night was a reward for coming. If you work well, you will have more food, rum, and women. If you do not work well, you will not be rewarded." He smiled again. "Am I making myself clear?"

"I knew there were strings attached to last night," Artie whispered, "nothing is ever free."

Jim cut a glare at him sideways, "that would explain why they are short-handed. But I'm glad we don't have Holliday with us. He'd get us all killed." He squinted into the bright morning light, "I bet he's out here already though. Hope he's cooperating for a change."

The large group of sailors grumbled and but nodded in agreement as many nervously looked at the guards with the rifles. More armed guards were in the distance. It seemed to be very well organized.

"Take a machete and move to the fields!" Zane stepped back as the guards approached. Each man was handed a long knife and began following the leader to a field.

Jim swung the knife as walked, chopping the end off the bit of cane he carried, testing the blade's edge. The knife easily passed through the cane. "Sharp," he said quietly. "Very sharp." He stole a quick glance over his shoulder at his friend, "and those rifles are old muskets. If they would even shoot in this damp air, they would be slow to reload."

"You thinking about something?" Artie breathed, his eyes darting to the guards nearby. He swung his machete, experimenting with the balance of blade to handle.

"I'm always thinking about something," Jim said quietly. The approached the tall canes and the guards stepped farther back, giving the men room to swing the machetes. "I just haven't decided yet. But I'll make sure you're the first to know." He dropped the piece of cane and swung at the tall stalks in front of him. The blade cut through them like butter, felling many pieces at the same time. He paused to look at the blade. "Very sharp indeed."

tbc


	10. Chapter 10 Long Day Into Night

Chapter 10. Long Day Into Night

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Jim squinted into the sunlight, trying to see where the men on horseback were traveling to. The riders stayed in a tight group, moving quickly between the wagons in the narrow dirt paths. The hounds brayed again and rushed between fields of cane, chasing unseen quarry.

"Jim?" Artie's tired voice whispered behind him, "I think we have a visitor. I hope it's the picnic lunch I ordered. Delivery has been awfully slow today."

Jim turned to look past his friend toward a small man carrying a yoke around his shoulders. On one end was a large woven basket and the other was a stone jug. A length of string dangled from the jug handle tied to a tin cup, swinging, as the old man struggled to walk. He tilted toward the side of the jug indicating it was much heavier than the basket.

"I ordered steak and eggs," Artie continued, "what did you want?"

"A jug of whiskey and a basket of whatever he has," Jim growled. He wiped sweat form his forehead with his tattered shirt. He had pulled it back on over his shoulders to keep the sun from burning his skin even more. Artie moved slowly forward as the other men in their group approached the old man. Jim stole another glance at the horsemen as they circled the fields again and stepped over to join his partner.

"Thank you," Artie said, nodding, as the man handed him a thick slice of heavy bread. "Looks as good as steak for now." The men were all handed a piece of bread and then took turns with the cup, tipping the water jug carefully so they didn't spill a drop.

Jim chewed his lunch, holding the bread in one hand while rubbing the other hand over his stomach. "I think I could use the eggs if they're out of steaks. Tough work on bread and water," he sighed. He paused as he watched Artie tightening a piece of rope around the waist of his pants. He swallowed hard, the bread making a lump in his throat, as he noticed how thin his partner had become. Artie's usual round face had become gaunt and grey, even under his tanned skin. Jim looked down at the bread and shook his head. His stomach growled painfully but he knew had often gone longer without food. "I never could stand dry bread. Here," he said, handing it to Artie without looking at him.

"What?" Artemus said, stepping back. "I'm not eating your food." He glared hard into Jim's worried blue eyes. "I'm fine. Besides," he winked, suddenly grinning again, "I have some extra servings. There was a two for one sale on day old bread." He tapped his shirt where it was tucked into the pants waistband.

Jim stole a glance at the old man as he shuffled away toward the next group. "Anyone for a second helping?" Artie suddenly held out more slices of bread to the other men who all grabbed at it greedily. Saving a few pieces, he handed another one to Jim. "It's not steak and eggs but I thought one piece was a little stingy. I grabbed a few extras when he wasn't looking. He probably wouldn't care anyway even if he did notice me."

"Let's hope they haven't counted them," Jim said, eating again. The pain in his throat had subsided after seeing his friend's slight-of-hand trick. His partner was still thinking on his feet.

The hounds suddenly brayed close by and the workers were yelling and pointing down the path near the wagon they had been filling with cane stalks. Men ran ahead of the hounds as the animals darted around them. The noses of the big dogs glided over the ground and their long ears dragged in the dirt. They seemed to ignore the humans and moved quickly past Jim. He stepped back off the road and watched the dogs dart from man to man, sniffing each leg and foot. "What the hell?"

Blaine came to stand next to Jim, nodding, "getting our scent." He pointed to the dogs, "see that big one there, that's the leader. Watch him hang back and then go in a new direction." The dogs darted past them, "they is getting our scent in case one of us runs, I guess. I saw a chain gang back home once." He paused to stuff bread into his mouth, swallowing, Jim and Artie, and a few others gathered to listen "a man ran from the group. He had smashed the pick ax into the chain and broke it before the guards noticed. He ran but the guards released their dogs and they got him. Chewed him all up but he wasn't dead."

"Back to the chain gang," Artie muttered.

"No,' Blaine said quietly, "They hung him after he ran." The group stood in a quiet circle, eating the stolen second helping, and watched the hounds move away from them. Men followed on horses. One man rode closer, more slowly, and stopped near their group. He wore a wide brimmed hat with it pulled down low, keeping his eyes in shadow. He rode a tall, white horse and carried a long rifle in his right hand. The man's eyes looked at each sailor, doing a quick survey of who was there, then rode off quickly.

"And I looked, and behold a pale horse: and his name that sat on him was Death, and Hell followed with him." Artemus turned as the man rode past, and then looked back at his partner with worried eyes. Blaine and Rowdy exchanged a nervous glance and stepped closer to Jim.

"Well I don't know if that man is Death himself but he is definitely looking for someone," he said to the young men near him. "The dogs must be searching for a particular scent, tracking this area. I bet a worker was here and slipped away and now that man is following." He stole a glance back to his partner, "note the gear? Worn saddle, boots," he shook his head "hired tracker. That rifle he is carrying in a Trapdoor Springfield; accurate over a long distance and more reliable in this humid, wet air. The damp wouldn't bother the powder like these muskets. That man could shoot over a long distance. And that long legged horse looks like a Tennessee Walker. It could run you down in a few yards." He turned to grin at his partner, "and you don't need to quote Revelations every damn time we see a guy on a white horse." Artie laughed, turning back to their work.

The local guards approached, yelling at them, pushing men back toward the stalks of sugar cane. Artie whispered to Jim, as their group broke up, "If we could hide in the jungle, wait for another ship, a military ship…" he shook his head in disgust, "If I could just speak their language."

"We'll see tonight," Jim muttered back, making a slow move to hand Artie his machete so they could talk longer. "We need food. After the night's meal, we will see what happens, if we can make a clean break. Just you and me though," he said, nodding toward the younger men. "No need to drag them into it. The ship is a good home for them. We just need to get back to our home."

Artie let out a long sigh, "it would be hard on the crew to lose us. But I do want to get back. Let's see what happens tonight. I know I couldn't run very far now, not on bread and water." He swung the machete, warming up his tired muscles. "Which is why they only feed the workers bread and water, I'm sure." He paused as the hounds started barking loudly. They turned to see all the horsemen, formed in a tight group, galloping toward the jungle in the far distance. "They found the scent now. I wonder who the poor bloke is."

Jim snorted as he faced the corn stalks, "probably Holliday." He sliced the machete through the cane, throwing bits of plant everywhere as the stalks fell. Artie fell into step next to him as they began their afternoon work.

[

]

Later that evening, as the sun was setting….

{

}

The sun was low in the sky when a man rode by ringing a large, brass handbell. The horse's ears flickered at the sharp sound.

Jim stopped his cutting and straightened his back. When his area had fallen into deep shadow, he and Artie had slowed their work. The day had left them drained and exhausted. Jim walked to the dirt road to watch the man ride past, the clanging getting fainter as the bell moved farther away.

"I was done an hour ago," Artie sighed. "I have never been this bushed in my life."

Jim squinted into the jungle and looked back at his partner, knowing his friend was spent. "I don't really feel like running and hiding in the dark tonight either. Maybe after we eat and see what happens." Blaine and Rowdy moved to his side, neither looking too tired. "How are you two doing?"

Blaine shrugged, as if the work was nothing unusual, and grinned, "I won't be complaining next time I cut up an ole, greasy whale. That will seem like easy work compared to this swinging a machete all day."

Jim grinned and smacked his young friend on the shoulder, "I agree. I almost miss the ship."

Other men were being pushed up the road by guards on horseback and on foot. Men didn't need much urging to leave the fields. Machetes were being stacked in the last wagon that was only half full of cane stalks. Jim started to walk along the edge of a large group, with Blaine and Rowdy on his heels. Artie followed close behind, his pace increasing as they approached the village. Smells of meat roasting filled the air and the voices of the working men began to sound more cheerful.

"I smell our dinner," Artie said, "I wonder if we…" His voice choked in his throat as the mass of workers turned a corner in the street, between buildings. To the right, a tall, wooden scaffold was lit with burning torches. "Oh my God…" Artie whispered, as he stepped behind Jim, "Is that?"

"Ya," Jim's deep voice hissed out as his body tensed. He glared angrily into the darkness.

The crowd was halted and pushed forward toward the scaffolding. Voices fell silent but angry grumbles came from various areas of the large mass. More torches were moved to the scaffolding as Zane walked up the steps to the upper deck of the structure. Four men stood, awaiting their fate. A noose hung behind each of their heads while black cloth was tied around their faces to gag and blind them. Zane moved to stand between the two men in the center, his smile huge, as he stood proudly, with his guards crowding around him.

"Good evening!" Zane's clear voice cut though the still air. "You have entertainment tonight. For those of you staying on to work again tomorrow, don't choose what these men chose to do! For those of you leaving, be glad you didn't run!" He laughed at the workers, pointing at the doomed men behind him. "Five ran but we only saved four from the dogs!" He laughed again, yelling out even louder, "There is no escape. My men are too smart for you!"

Zane stepped aside, moving down the ramp. Guards moved forward, pulling the ropes over the heads of the doomed men. The crowd grumbled louder as men began to shove each other. A few braver ones hollered out jeers from the center, fists were raised in anger.

Artie and Jim exchanged a glance. Artie tipped an eyebrow up but Jim shook his head slowly. His face was flushed with anger under his deep tan but he stood rigid and silent. Artie let out a long sigh of frustration as he watched the guards on horseback, holding the more modern and accurate rifles, circling the furious crowd.

Rowdy looked down at his boots, his whole body shaking. Blaine wiped his face and turned sideways to face Jim's shoulder, his eyes squeezed shut.

Zane's voice yelled out, "NOW!" The snap of wood and creaking of rope were heard and then the hollow thuds as the four men dropped. Three appeared to die instantly. One man, his bound feet and body twisting, finally went limp. The crowd went silent as the last of the sun's rays petered out. Darkness fell over the street and homes.

Guards yelled out, moving the men back toward the road. The mass began to approach the docks and beach again, leaving the buildings behind them. Most walked in silence with heads hung low. A few voices argued as some shouted about fighting but more guards arrived to quell the objectors with clubs and rifle butts.

The men were suddenly split apart into groups as First Mates arrived from various ships. Stone appeared out of the darkness, working with guards to pull his men from the mass of workers. Jim looked up to see men from their ship being gathered in a separate area. He nodded to Artie, "something's up again."

Rowdy tried to speak and had to clear his throat. On the second try he whispered, "It's our shipmates. We seem to be going in a different direction." They moved to join their friends without waiting for guards to shove them. Stone turned to glare at Jim as they crossed behind him. "He seems happy to see us."

"Welcome back," Artie snorted. He watched most of the workers moving to the beach, to where the bon fires burned and meat was cooking. "I have a bad feeling about this." In the dancing firelight, the scantily clad women were moving forward to greet the men.

"I have bad feelings in general now," Jim sighed, "nothing surprises me. And I hate islands."

They and their shipmates were lead off toward the docks, away from the beach. They approached their ship to find stacks of crates. Stone shoved the first men to a stop, pointing at the supplies. "The last of our food is in them crates. Grab one and climb back aboard. And be quick about it. The Captain wants to shove off quickly. And your dinner waits for you in the mess."

The crew slowly formed a line leading to the gangplank up to the ship. On the way past the pile, each man picked up a crate. Some men staggered with the weight, exhausted and lack of food and water finally catching up to them. Jim grabbed a large box off the dock that the other men had obviously been avoiding. He shifted the heavy box onto his shoulder and bent sideways, supporting the weight with his entire body. Artie, behind him, picked up another large box and followed him. As they stepped onto the deck of the ship, Stone gave Jim a hard shove in the shoulder. Jim toppled over, the box crashing to the wooden planks.

"I didn't expect to see you back here, West," Stone snarled down, hands on hips, his usual glare and mocking laughter louder than ever. "I thought you would run for the jungle and hide with the lizards and monkeys."

Jim scrambled to his feet but kept his distance, keeping the crate between him and his adversary. He noticed Artie very quietly moving onto the deck and stopping at the railing, instead of following the line of men heading to the stairway. Artie shifted the box he held to his stomach, either to be used as a shield or a weapon. Jim sighed, knowing he was too exhausted to fight and didn't want his partner involved. "You want me to carry that box of supplies to the galley or not," he snapped, glaring at the First Mate.

Stone stepped back, waving an arm in a wide circle and giving Jim a mocking bow. "Please return to work." He turned and hurried down the deck to harass other men.

Artie stepped to Jim's side as he struggled to pick up the crate. A corner was smashed and sharp pieces of wood dug into his palm. He returned it to his shoulder and caught his friend's eye. "One of these days I won't be weak with hunger and I'll rip his head off." Artie grinned and they followed their shipmates downstairs. At the bottom of the ladder they stacked the crates in the long hallways along the lower decks.

"Artie!" A young voice yelled out from the crowded hallway, crushed with men. "Jim!" A small body darted between the filthy sailors and rushed to them, hugging Jim around the waist. Charlie's eyes, wet with tears, looked up at them. "I didn't think you'd be back. I thought you were gone!" He released Jim to turn and hug Artemus.

"What?" Jim said, kneeling to the boy's side. Charley clung to Artie, his small body shaking. Jim put a reassuring hand on the boy's back. "Why? What happened?"

Artie rubbed his hand over the boy's head, smoothing his hair back from his face. "Did someone tell you we wouldn't be back?" Charlie nodded, burying his face into Artie's stomach.

"Whoever told you that," Jim said softly, "well…you shouldn't have believed them. We're back."

"I think it's a good thing too," Artie sighed. "We're better off here."

"Stone said he had a bet with Zane," Charlie gasped, "he said he bet that you two would run off and the guards would catch you. He said they had big dogs too that would eat men who tried to escape. Zane had men watching you all day and…"

"All right," Artie said, rubbing the boy's back to interrupt the flow of words. Charley stopped speaking as his breath came in gasps. Jim stood up and the agents exchanged a dark look over the boy's bent head, both knowing how close they had come to trying to escape. "Well, Charley," Artie said, breaking the bad mood, "We're back and we're starving. I smell food. What did you cook us?" Charlie stepped back, rubbing his face. Artie spoke out to the men nearby, "who would like some of Charlie's cooking tonight?"

The men all cheered, hollering the boy's name. "Good to be back!" One yelled out. "I would rather eat in my own mess!" another, "and sleep in my own bunk tonight." Is if in celebration and homecoming, the men pushed into the mess hall. Charley zipped between them into the galley. Artie moved to help him as Jim began swapping stories with the other sailors. The old men, left behind on the ship, tottered in to listen of what had happened on the island.

tbc


	11. Chapter 11 Back To A Pirate's Life

Chapter 11. Back to the Pirate's Life

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Jim relaxed on his couch, stretched out on his back with his eyes closed. He could feel the soft golden cloth through the back of his shirt and the swaying movement of the train as he dozed. A firm thud against his chest announced the arrival of the kitten. "Ooof, Sophie", he whispered, patting the soft fur, "why do you have to jump on me? You're getting too big for that."

In answer, the kitten meowed and walked up his chest to his face. She leaned close, rubbing her forehead against his chin. Her rough tongue linked his stubbly cheek and nibbled the end of his nose.

Without opening his eyes, he muttered, "I am trying to sleep. Why are you biting my nose?" He ran his hand down her back and pulled gently on the tiny tail. "You can stay here if you sleep so lay down." He pressed her down to his chest and Sophie snuggled against his throat. Her soft purring relaxed him even more as he drifted back to sleep.

"Jim!" Artie's voice shouted from the back of the varnish car, jolting Jim to his feet.

"What?" Jim shouted back as he staggered, his brain still hazy with sleep. His left hand held Sophie to his chest as he hurried across the living room to the swinging door. "Artie? Where are you?" He pushed through the door and started to hurry down the narrow hallway but his bare feet were suddenly in water. "What the hell?" He stopped and looked down at the floor. The carpet was covered with inches of cold water. "How did…" the train tilted to one side, throwing him against the door frame. His head smacked the wood and he felt the needle sharp claws sink into his chest as Sophie gripped him. "It's alright, girl," he gasped, trying to straighten. "I don't know how water got inside…"

Wind blew through the open hallway windows followed by waves of water pouring inside. The water was suddenly to his knees. "What in the Hell is going on?" He pushed Sophie tighter against his shirt, as she clung to him, and tried to use both hands to shut the window. It was stuck wide open and more water poured in onto his chest, soaking the terrified kitten. "Where is this all coming from?" He looked out the windows to see waves of water to the side of the train. He twisted, looking down toward the engine to see the train moving through an ocean of waves.

"I don't understand," Jim gasped, standing and backing away from the windows. Another wave pushed water through all the windows and the hallway filled with water to his waist. Sophie crawled to his shoulder and sunk her claws into his shirt collar. Her tiny body was soaked and she shook with cold and terror. Jim turned to pat her head, "its ok, girl, we'll figure this out." The dark eyes blinked at him and a weak "meow" answered. "Let's find Artie."

He surged forward, holding the walls for support. "Artie! Where are you?!" Only the sound of waves and the creaking of the train could be heard. The varnish car tipped again and he fell hard against the wall. "Artie!" He grabbed at door frames, looking into each empty room as he struggled past. The galley and lab were empty. His bedroom and the bathroom were also empty. "Artie! Where are you?!" He pushed forward again, through chest deep water, trying to reach his partner's bedroom. He has to be there, he thought desperately, gasping for air as a waved covered his face.

With a high pitched meow, Sophie lost her grip and floated away. Her tiny paws slapped at the water but she soon disappeared in the dark water.

"No!" Jim turned, his feet no longer touching the floor, reaching for the kitten. "Sophie!" A waved covered his face and his hands went under. He was sinking in the cold water, his arms and feet unable to find any kind of a purchase. He opened his eyes under the water to see the lifeless body of the kitten sinking far below him.

Jim reached out for Sophie but suddenly hands grabbed him, pulling him by the arms and shoulders. "Jim!" A voice shouted, "Jim, are you ok?" He was shaken again and pulled into a sitting position. "Wake up, man, it's a bad dream!"

Jim's eyes opened slowly and he saw Rowdy's face close to his. Blaine sat next to him, pushing him upright. Jim looked around the room to see a mix of worried and amused faces staring at him.

"That must have been some dream," Rowdy said, squeezing Jim's shoulder, "You've been yelling like a crazy person; yelling for Artie and that girl again." The men behind him all burst into raucous laughter, with many teasing, "Sophie!"

Jim snorted and shook his head, "it was so real. I was home again, on my train, but then it was tipping over and there was water everywhere." He rubbed a hand over his tired face, shuddering with the memory of the dream. "I couldn't find Artie and I lost Sophie in the waves." He let out a long sigh "and then I was sinking…and you guys pulled me up."

Blaine slapped Jim's back, "you may sink yet, Jim," the young man grinned, "and this here ship is tipping like a wash tub with a broken leg. We got water everywhere."

"What?" Jim said, looking around more as he woke up. Just then the ship tipped sharply to one side, with the bow dipping down and then rising sharply again. The maneuvers caused the men to sway one way and then the other, leaning on each other as they sat on the bunks.

Rowdy nodded, "I was on deck at the end of my watch and a wave came right over the bow. Right up and over and washed down the deck. Old Tuffy has the helm now with the Captain."

Tuffy?" Jim asked, "that old man that fixes the netting? What for?" The ship tipped again and water gushed down the ladder, pooling on the lower desks around the bunk supports.

"Ole Tuffy knows the sea when it gets rough," Rowdy said, "He enjoys the nets but his main job is the helm when we are in a storm. And we seem to be in a storm. The ship is really tossing and water is everywhere." He grinned, "that's why you were dreaming about it. Did you ever find Artie in your dream?" He laughed at first but stopped at the worried look on Jim's face. "Hey, it was just a dream. I am sure he's busy in the galley cooking us something to eat."

Jim took a deep breath and stood, his left hand reaching for Sophie on his chest. Shaking the feeling, he let his left hand drop. "I'm going to check on him. He can get into trouble faster than you can say "what's for breakfast?"

Jim climbed the slippery wooden ladder to the main deck. A wave met him in the doorway, slamming him backwards into Rowdy and Blaine who were following at his heels. "Ya, that was in my dream.." He moved out to the deck to see it in a state of disarray. Equipment and ropes scattered the deck, entangling anyone who dared cross. Waves broke over the railing and added more water each time. Jim turned to look up at the helm through the mists and could just see the top of the old, grey head over the wooden wheel. Wrinkled but strong fingers grasped the wheel as waves pummeled him;

"He's a tough old bird," Rowdy said, nodding toward him. "He keeps the bow pointed straight into the oncoming waves. If we go sideways, we could tip over."

"How can he see anything," Jim asked, wiping water off his face.

"He doesn't," Rowdy said, grinning, "he can feel the ship and feel the waves. He can steer better blind than most men who can see."

Jim snorted, "because he can't see how bad it is. Come on!" He rushed forward, walking over the tilting deck covered with sliding ropes and hooks. His bare feet had grown accustomed now to gripping the wood, his soles covered with calluses. The three men soon reached the doorway that lead down to the galley. They climbed down the ladder as water sloshed over their feet.

"Artie!" Jim yelled out again as he pushed forward, down the narrow hall toward the mess hall and the galley beyond. Water was seeping through the walls and ceiling as they moved. "Rowdy, where is all this water coming from?" He pushed the door open to the mess hall, hitting wooden chairs floating in deeper water.

"The waves coming over the bow cause it," Rowdy yelled back, trying to keep up with Jim. "The water seeps down through all the decks and ends up below. That's why we seal the jugs of oil with the wax and hook them down. Otherwise they could float and crash into each other. We can't have them break." He pushed through the doorway, on Jim's heels. "When the storm is over, we will run the bilge pumps and clean the water out."

Jim pushed at the scatter of chairs and tables to cross the large, open room. Water was approaching knee deep as he moved. He pushed the visions of his dreams to the back of his brain but his voice caught in his throat as he tried to yell again to his partner. He reached the closed door that lead to the small galley room. He pushed on it but it seemed stuck. He slammed his palm against it, crazed now with worry. "Artie! Are you in there?"! His throat was tight and his voice was strained and hoarse.

"Jim!" Artemus hollered back from inside. "Just a minute. Don't move that door yet."

Jim fell against the door, leaning heavily as the ship tossed, suddenly weak with relief at the sound of his partner's voice. Soon, the door was yanked open, just as the ship tilted again, and he fell awkwardly against Artie's chest. He grabbed at the door frame and his partner steadied him.

"What do you need," Artie snapped. "I don't have time for any other emergencies. I have plenty of mine own."

Jim stepped back, irritated, "I…" he stuttered, his dream rushing back to him, "I just thought I would check up on you, that's all." He glared, looking into the galley . "The ship is tossing around and flooding, I thought you might need a hand."

Artie chuckled, realizing his partner was worried about him. He stepped back into the room, with a wave of his hand, "well in that case, please join the party. Help is always needed. As you can see, we are in danger of ruining all this food we finally have." Charley was behind him, holding a small wooden crate. "Here, let me grab that one." He took the crate and handed it to Jim, "put that as high as you can on the pile. I want everything off the floor. Then we'll cover it with oil cloths."

Jim stepped onto a larger box and grasped the small crate. He reached up to wedge it between the pile of boxes and the roof beams. "At least your ceiling isn't leaking, like in the hall." Rowdy handed him another box and soon everyone had formed a chain of hands. Boxes were quickly stacked, out of reach of the flooding.

"How deep does the water get down here," Artie asked Rowdy, as he handed him the corner of a tarp. "Am I wasting my time? We finally have food to cook. It needs to be kept dry."

Rowdy shrugged, "don't really know. I never came down here during a flood like this. I usually work the sails. But we have a full crew this voyage so I am off shift. Supposed to be sleeping but Jim kept up such a racket, no one else could sleep."

"What?" Artie said, looking from Rowdy to Jim, as he stepped onto a low shelf and dragged the tarp over the huge pile of boxes. "Snoring again, James? We really need to fix that somehow." Jim glared down at Rowdy and rolled his eyes, sighing tiredly.

"No," Rowdy laughed, "dreaming of that girl again. That Sophie. He must really miss her!"

Artie smirked, his eyes twinkling, but didn't add any details for the ship gossip. "well", Rowdy continued, "he must have felt the ship moving and dreamed he was drowning. We all do it, especially at first. After you live through a few storms, it doesn't bother you as much."

"And I supposed if you don't live through a storm," Artie said, "it would stop bothering you completely." He secured the tarp with a length of rope and tossed another section to his partner. Jim tied down the opposite corner and jumped down to the floor. Artie dropped next to him. "I'm not sure what brought you all here but Charley and I appreciate the help, don't we?" He slapped Charley's shoulder and the young boy grinned up at him, nodding.

"Should we go on deck?" Jim asked Rowdy. "I don't want to get washed overboard but it doesn't seem right to hide down here either."

"It's almost our shift now anyway," Rowdy said, "we'll go up. It didn't look so bad as all that. I don't think we'll wash over…" he paused as the ship lilted toward one side before righting. "Unless it tips over! Dang, ole Tuffy must be having a tough time of it. Maybe the Captain will have some of the sails lowered to slow the ship down!"

Taking a deep breath, Rowdy turned and ran back across the mess hall toward the ladder. Blaine followed close behind, both men moving easily with the rolling ship. Jim turned to poke a finger into Artie's chest, "stay out of trouble and stay down here!" He turned before his partner could protest and raced after the two younger men.

[

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Artie tied the rope tighter to the boxes and stepped back to look at their handiwork. The crates had been stacked on top of the low wooden workbench and the metal, water tight box that the Captain's food was stored in. So far, the water had not gotten deeper and was still well below the food supplies.

"I hope that does it, Charley," he sighed, shaking his head. "We finally have food to cook and it was almost ruined by salt water. Boxes of dried meat, fruit, crackers…everything. If the water doesn't get any higher, we will be alright. If it does, we will have to get everyone down here to carry these crates out to a drier location." He turned and patted the boy's shoulder, "if there is a drier location."

"Water always drains through the ship," Charley said, "old Cook used to try to move food up high but he wasn't as strong as you. And he wouldn't ask for help."

"We all need help, Charley," Artie grinned. "I know I wouldn't know what to do without you. I would have been lost as a fish out of water on this ship." The young boy's face flushed bright red and he rubbed the end of his nose, looking at his feet. "Why don't we go up topside and see if there is something we can help with up there?"

Charley's face snapped up, his eyes wide with worry, "but Jim said not to. He said we should stay down here." He looked over his shoulder as if Jim was behind him, listening.

Artie laughed, slapping the boy's back gently, "he was just worried we would get swept overboard. If you promise not to, and to stick by my side, we should be ok. Deal?" The boy grinned and nodded his head. "Ok, let's go." He lead the boy out of the mess hall and down the flooded hallway. They climbed the ladder as water washed down over their bare feet and soon were standing in the open doorway to the deck. "Oh, Aunt Maud, what new Hell is this," Artie breathed under his breath.

The ship dipped down, the bow sliding down a sloping water into a trough between huge waves. The next wave towered over the ship, black water swirling upwards toward the crest. Artie had to tip his head back to see the top. The ship slid down and then started to climb up the slope. The scatter of ropes and equipment slide past them across the deck as the ship became level and then tipped backward as the bow rose.

"It's just a storm," Charley said, shrugging, "ain't you been on a ship during a storm? The Captain likes them because he says we make good speed. See the sails? Most are lowered so we don't go so fast we are out of control. Just the center ones stay up and the steering sails. The top sails are folded so the masts don't snap off." He pointed up into the storming sky at the men climbing on the ropes.

"Oh, Christ," Artie gasped, seeing Jim's small frame hanging from the ropes on the highest point of the main mast. "Of all the…and he didn't want me doing anything dangerous. I swear, if he falls overboard…."

"Oh, he'd be lost," Charley said, "I hope no one falls over. We would never get them back." They watched together as the men climbed around a sail, lowering the great sheet of cloth into its lowest point and tying it with ropes. Many climbed down to the deck while others swung on ropes to the next mast. Artie tried to see his partner, but Jim was lost in the mists.

"Do you see Jim," Artie asked Charley, as he squinted into the rain.

"There," the young boy pointed, "he's on the last mast, tying down another sail. They are almost done now." He turned to point to the upper deck where the helm was located. "See ole Tuffy? He is the best helmsmen in the world during a storm. He can feel the ship more than see it."

"Well I wish I couldn't see all this," Artie said, gulping, as his stomach flip flopped. The ship had slid down the giant wave only to meet another one. The bow rose again, sliding equipment back and forth over the wet wooden decking. "How does he know where we are going?"

"He won't worry about direction in the storm," Charley said, "he just keeps the bow pointed into the next wave. When we are through, we will have to wait until we can see stars so we can figure out where we are."

Artie nodded, and stepped out further onto the deck. The wind almost knocked him over and he grabbed at the railing. "Stay in the doorway," he said, waving Charley back, "I am going to go to the helm and see what our course is. I'm curious."

"Jim probably wants you to stay here with me," Charley yelled out into the wind.

Artie nodded, "he probably does." He walked slowly forward, sliding his grip along the railing. He slid his feet too, not daring to take a very large step. The ship tilted sharply while rolling side to side. After a few minutes, Artie reached the short ladder that lead to the upper deck. He grabbed at the ladder's edge and climbed the steps, grabbing again at the out ship's railing, making his way toward Tuffy. The old man cackled when he saw him.

"Having trouble walking," he laughed, his grin infectious. "I told you this was an exciting job. Flying through the waves with a fast wind in your sails," he gushed, "nothing like it! Even hunting the giant sperm whales doesn't compare to this. It's like riding the largest and fastest horse in the world."

"I'm glad to see we are in good hands," Artie said, grinning at the old man. "Do you know what direction we are going in?"

"We go where the winds and the waves take us," Tuffy said, putting his face to the rain. "And at a fast pace too." He nodded toward a large, brass circular piece of equipment that stood near the wheel. "Look at the compass, if you want," he said, "just mind the wheel. It can snap around and give you a heck of a thump."

Artie let go of the railing and moved to the brass compass. It was waist high and round, as wide as his stomach. The top was glass and he had to wipe the water off to see through it. Inside, below the glass, was the largest compass he had ever seen. The large brass arrow pointed toward North-west.

"We are going North-west," he said, looking back at Tuffy.

"Aye, we are at that," Tuffy said, "the biggest storms blow us North. I try to steer West so we don't hit the rocks on the islands along the land of the Eastern shore. We started below the territories of the America's but we may stop well north of them. And that's what the Captain wants."

"Why?" Artie said, yelling into the wind and rain. He didn't see the quiet, tall man walk up behind him. A double line of buttons on the dark blue pea jacket barely showed in the dark rain.

"Mr. Gordon," the Captain said, his deep voice easily heard through the storm, though it sounded like a roll of thunder, "Why don't I answer your questions while we leave the crew to man the Helm. Join me in my cabin, won't you?"

Artie had jumped at the unexpected voice but turned and nodded, following the Captain. He stole a quick glance at the doorway where he had left Charley. He saw the boy duck back inside and knew he would be hurrying down an interior hallway to meet them further in.

The Captain walked through the doorway to his quarters, pausing at his own door to knock softly. "My dear, the cook is with me." A soft voice murmured something from behind the door and the Captain pulled the handle. The heavy wooden door swung out slowly and he entered, followed by Artemus. The Captain picked up a towel from a rack and wiped his face, replacing the linen back on the rack without offering it to his cook. Artemus wiped his face with his tattered sleeve and pushed his hair from his face. He felt the unruly curl touch his forehead and knew he needed a haircut. Charley appeared behind his knees and peeked into the room.

The Captain turned, gesturing Artemus to enter and saw the boy, "Ah, young Charley. Please enter too. It's quiet a storm out there. Pray, tell me, how is the food? I know in the past it has been spoiled by such storms by the seas leaking though the decks."

Artie cleared his throat, "we stacked it out of reach of the water and covered all of it with heavy tarps. It seemed secure and dry if the water doesn't fill up any higher." He reached over to wrap an arm around the boy's shoulders. "Charley has been instrumental in knowing what is to be done. He knew the water would start leaking before it happened. It was his quick thinking that save the food."

Charley looked at his feet again, wiping his face in embarrassment. "Ah, I couldn't lift the crates though. You did that. And then Jim came with Rowdy and Blaine." He looked up at the Captain, his eyes wide with excitement. "You should have seen Jim come running in, just knowing we needed help, like he could hear us thinking to him."

The Captain chuckled; pouring dark liquid into a small glass. The cut glass pattern on the surface caught the light as he moved. He handed the glass to Artemus, "some brandy, young man? It will warm you."

"Thank you, sir," Artemus said, "it will. You don't…?" He held the glass up.

"No," the Captain said, "no, never have, though I know others imbibe without losing their faculties. My dearest wife enjoys her wine and her port, don't you, my dear." He bowed to Rose, as the red head relaxed on the long couch. She smiled and raised a glass of wine to Artemus, in a silent toast.

The Captain turned back to Charley. "And you are becoming a cook, I hear. Learning a lot and becoming a value to the ship. I am very proud of you, young Charley." The boy blushed again as he turned back to Artemus. "But you were asking about our direction? And how the ship was steered in a storm?"

"Yes," Artemus said, nodding, "I have been on ships at sea but never in a storm like this." As if hearing him, the ship's bow dipped down, tipping the people and the room's contents. Most of the objects were unmoving in the officer's quarters, though the men standing leaned slightly. "I guess I have always been lucky."

"It's us that are lucky," The Captain said, "we traveled south for supplies, trading with the islands in a fair exchange of goods. Now we are moving north to the areas where the great sperm whales live this time of year. This storm will get us there very quickly. It is not so bad that we are in danger. Ole Tuffy know his trade. He has lived on a ship all of his life. You get a feel for a ship, like a living thing. Much like riding a horse." He nodded, pouring a cup of steaming hot water from a teapot into a fine, porcelain cup. "And once the storm has past, we will wait for the stars. We will use the location of the stars and the maps to determine where we are." He turned and picked up a large, metal contraption from a desk behind him. "Have you ever used a Sextant?" He handed it to Artemus. "I will show you when the sky is clear but for now, I will just say that you find the North star and measure the angle to the Earth's horizon. The measurements, when compared to a map with coordinates marked, will show you the ship's approximate location."

Artemus held the scope part to his eye and looked across the room. He lowered it to see the arcs with degrees marked into the metal. "Yes, I would enjoy using this very much." He turned it over, studying it. "Do all the men on the ship know its use?"

"Unfortunately, no," The Captain said, "many have no interest or mental capacity," he said, with obvious disdain. "But a few of the older men do. Tuffy, of course, who I suspect was a sailor before that instrument was invented, can do very well by measuring with his fingers." The older man chuckled, "he has so much knowledge. A life lived outside on the deck of a ship. He has seen so much and the industry has changed tremendously; we must change with it or wither away." He let out a long sigh, "so we carry on, teaching the younger men." He turned to Charley, "and I do think this young man can begin to learn a few tasks beyond the galley, though he is turning into a good cook."

"He is a fast learner and has a very good memory," Artemus said. He wrapped his arm around Charley's shoulder. "We have been discussing the use of preserving meat and vegetables so the ship can have food stored for longer periods of time."

"Excellent," The Captain said, his head suddenly tipping to one side. "Did you notice? The ship is tilting less now. Wind is still gusting but not steady like it was earlier. I think the worst is done. It will dissipate soon."

As if on cue, yelling was heard coming from outside and then a heavy crash came from above their heads. Rose sat upright on her davenport, her eyes wide with alarm, as Artemus and the Captain exchanged a look over Charley's head. Then the two men, and the boy, turned and ran for the hall. Artemus, closer to the door and in a panic for Jim, quickly out-paced them. He burst onto the deck to see one of the smaller masts had broken, spilling splinters of wood into a mass of ropes. Jim was pulling Blaine out from the pile when the ship leaned sideways on a wave. A broken section of wooden mast toppled over the railing, pulling the ropes over with it. Jim was standing over Blaine one second and then was gone the next, yanked backwards over the edge of the ship.

Artemus, and the other crew that had seen Jim disappear, all stood frozen for a heat beat. Then Artie shrieked, "JIM!" He lept forward over the ropes to the railing. A single rope, tangled with a piece of splintered wood, hung over the railing, tight with the weight. Far below, Jim hung upside down with his legs wrapped in the ropes. His head dangled a few feet above the rolling waves. "JIM!" Artie shrieked again but his voice was lost in the wind.

tbc


	12. Chapter 12 The Fight

Chapter 12. The Fight

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Artie leaned over the rails, his fingertips digging into the wood, as he craned his neck to look down at his partner. Jim's feet and legs appeared to be wrapped tightly in the ropes and bits of wooden mast but he knew how slippery the hemp would be when wet. Huge rolling waves tipped the ship and Jim's motionless body leaned far out and then back, hitting the side of the hull with a dull thud.

Rowdy pushed through the crowd nearby to look over the edge too. "He's hung up in the ropes. If we can pull him up before he slips off…" Men shouted out suggestions and faults, "No, he'll slip off", or "The pieces of mast are too heavy."

Artie turned to the deck and grabbed another length of rope. He quickly tied the end around his waist and climbed onto the railing of the tossing ship. "Grab the other end," he yelled to Rowdy, "Whatever you do, don't pull on Jim's rope. I'll grab him and then you pull me back up." Rowdy nodded as men grabbed the length that Artie had attached to himself. He looked down the hull's side to see where his partner was. Finally spotting him far below in the white spray of a wave's crest, he dropped feet first straight down. The rope was snug as he fell and then caught him around the waist with a rib-crushing snap. He slammed in to the hull, just above Jim's bare feet. He had a close up view now of the rope twisted around Jim's legs. It looked secure but suspected his friend's wet skin and clothing would let the rope slip off easily if jostled.

"Jim," Artie called out, without getting a response. He looked back up the hull, shouting, "lower me down!"His rope moved and he slid down the wooden hull a couple more feet. He grabbed his friend around the waist and twisted his body so Jim's face turned to him.

"Oh, buddy, you're a mess," he moaned, looking at Jim's bloody face. "You banged into everything on the way down, didn't you?" He cringed as a wave splashed over them. His feet scrambled at the wooden hull, pushing both of them farther from the ship. He leaned back and yelled up, "ok, pull us up now." He tipped Jim upright as they were pulled farther up, holding his body against him. "Jim, wake up, will ya? This would be easier if you were helping!" Jim's eyes remained shut as watery blood drizzled down his face. A long gash was open along his forehead over his left eye. His head tilted at an angle as Artie held him and walked his feet up the hull. Quickly, the railing appeared in front of him.

"Hand him over," Rowdy said, his arms outstretched toward the unconscious man.

"No," Artie said, "grab me and pull us both over. I don't want to hand him over; he's too wet and slippery." Rowdy leaned over the railing and grabbed a handful of Artie's old, yellow shirt. He pulled him closer and other hands grabbed on too. Slowly, Artie was yanked over the railing, as the ship tilted in the waves. He landed on the deck, still holding his unconscious partner. "Damn," he gasped, "that wasn't fun. Jim, wake up," he snarled, looking into Jim's pale face. The blood covered his forehead and soaked into his hair. "Wake up, Jim! You took another five years off my life with that move!"

Jim's eyelids fluttered and he took a deep breath. He coughed out salt water into Artie's face and moaned, his body shifting on the deck.

"Jim," Artie said, shaking him slightly, "can you hear me, partner?"

Jim moaned again and began coughing harder. Water gushed out of mouth and nose and his breathing calmed. Artie rubbed his friend's back, whispering in exhaustion, "dammit, Jim, that was a close one. Don't ever do that again." Jim's eyes finally opened and he rubbed a hand over his face, his fingers touching the wound on his forehead. "Don't," Artie said, too weak now to speak, pulling Jim's hand down. "Need a bandage…"

Rowdy knelt next to them. "He'll be all right now," he said, patting Artie's shoulder. "Just catch your breath. We'll take care of him now." Artie took a long deep breath and slid down onto the deck next to Jim. "I think we'll have to take care of both of you." He looked up at the other sailors standing in a half circle. "Brave beyond anything I've seen and then passes out! Ain't they the pair?!" The men roared with laughter and then bent down to grab up their friends, "let's carry them below so they can dry out."

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Days later…

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Jim walked down the rail, squinting up at the blazing sun in the clear blue sky. The ship floated on the water, barely moving, the surface reflecting the sun like a plate glass window. Not a breath of air moved around him and the ship's sails hung limp.

"Morning," Jim said, waving to Artemus and Charley. "What are you two doing?" He watched as his friend dumped a bucket of kitchen waste over the railing.

"Oh, Jim," Artie said, smiling over his shoulder, "good morning. Charley and I were going to do some fishing so I saved some old bits of gristle to chum the waters and attract the fish." He stepped back and watched Charley fix a piece of gristly, greasy meat onto a large hook. The boy stepped closer to the rails with his long pole and flipped the hook over the edge.

"Fishing?" Jim said, clearly surprised. "I thought we had plenty of food. We wrapped crates up in the oil cloth during the storm last week. Did it still get damaged by the salt water?"

"On, no," Artie said, stepping to Jim's side. He leaned lazily against the railing and watched the other men on the deck. Most were sitting on the planks fixing nets with the older men. "No, we just needed some fresh air and this makes it look like we're working." He grinned and winked at his partner. "Stuffy down in the galley but not that much better up here." He squinted out over the sparkling, calm water.

Jim sighed, "I think this is what they call 'becalmed'". He turned his back to the deck to glare out over the water. "No wind, no movement, no whales. Just sitting," he said, his voice taking on an edge of annoyance. "This could last for days, weeks, months…"

"I don't think it will last for months," Artie said, snickering. "But we aren't getting anywhere, that's for sure. I swear we are either floating nowhere or flying around in a storm." He took a handful of biscuits out of a pocket and handed one to Jim. Taking a bite, he grumbled, "We need to catch one of these big whales everyone talks about. I heard whales had been seen; why haven't we gone after them?"

"I don't know," Jim sighed, "either they're too far away or too big or too small. Or maybe the wrong kind. I haven't paid much attention lately." He rubbed his forehead where the cut was healing from his tumble of the railing during the storm. "There are other kinds of whales around here but we are hunting the mighty and valuable sperm whales."

"Oh, right," Artie said, chewing on another biscuit. He nodded toward Charley as the boy began struggling with the fish pole. The end bent down over the railing and the boy pushed his feet against the short wall of the deck. "Don't lose him," Artie said, grinning. "That kid can fish, that's for sure."

Jim turned to watch as the boy walked back a few steps. Suddenly, with a flip of the pole, a large fish flew through the air and smacked onto the deck. Flipping and flopping, the dying animal threw water on the two men. "What kind is it," Artie called out, holding a hand up to shield his eyes.

"It's a triple fin!" Charley explained, pulling a long knife from his waistband. "These are great to eat!" The boy knelt on the deck and quickly cut the head off the fish and began to clean it out, throwing the guts into the pail.

Jim and Artie exchanged a glance, grinning at the boy's excitement. Turning back to the sea, Jim held his hand out to his partner, and Artie put a biscuit in it. "How do you cook such good tasting food in such dire conditions?"

"I don't," Artie said, "you're just in the dire condition of behind half starved, so everything you eat tastes better." He shrugged, "and I might have added some of the Captain's better food in my cooking for you, me, and Charley." He stole a look over his shoulder at the boy as the fishing pole was tossed back over the railing, "not that he knows that. I try to get him to sleep in the afternoon while I experiment. He would worry if he knew and wouldn't eat but he needs better food so he can grow."

"Well normally I don't like your food experiments," Jim grinned, "especially that all-vegetable meal you made once." He laughed as Artie rolled his eyes, "ya, that carrot juice, I'll never get over that." He turned back to the sea and stood up quickly, squinting at the water. He twisted to look up at the crow's nest, seeing Wolvertin hunched over, sleeping again. He looked back out to the water as the flat glass-like surface broke into rolling waves. "Did you see it?" Jim snapped out to Artie.

"See what?" Artie said, holding his hand over his eyes. "That sun is too strong for me. I can't see anything. Did you spot something big?"

"Something big, all right," Jim muttered, his eyes darting around the area on their side of the ship. "Something big and more than…" he pointed again, "one, over there. See it? The water is broken into waves. Gotta be a whale and I think more than one!" He turned and shouted to Rowdy who was talking to the group of elderly men working the netting. Rowdy hurried to Jim's side, knowing now to trust the man's incredible eyesight.

"Ya," Rowdy said, looking to where Jim was pointing. "More than one, I would say. Let's get the longboats dropped." He turned to yell to the crew that chased their prey. "Move! Move!" He ran to the closest longboats as the sailors scrambled. "Jim thinks we may have more than one out there so let's grab all the spears!"

Stone stomped forward, watching the men scramble and looked out to the sea. The rolling waves were obvious now as a large, dark fin broke the surface, almost waving to them. He looked up the main mast at the crow's nest to see Wolvertin leaning out, looking at the water. "Ya, West saw them before you! Again! What were you doing up there? Sleeping!" He shook a great fist at the spotter. "Get down here and help with the whales since you can't see anyway!" Wolvertin scrambled over the side and quickly climbed down the netting around the sails.

"I saw the whales!" Wolvertin yelled at Stone, while pointing at Jim. "That bastard didn't need to yell it first!" He saw Jim turn to glare at him as the men were swinging the long boat out. He pointed at Jim and screamed again, "You bastard! You don't see no better than me!"

"Idiot," Jim snarled, "You would have missed these and you know it!" He hooked a finger at the whales as the two longboats dropped. Without another word, he turned his back on Stone and Wolvertin, and leaped over the railing. Hanging briefly from one hand, he hooked his toes in the rope webbing ladder that hung down the hull and scrambled with practiced ease to the wooden boats.

Rowdy stood at the point of his boat, watching his friend with worried eyes. "I didn't know if you were coming with us or staying to fight with Wolvertin. You know what Stone thinks of fightin', he and the Captain." He slapped Jim's shoulder as he climbed into the boat. "It's not worth their wrath, Jim." He caught Jim's eye, "I've seen it and it's a terrible thing."

"I know," Jim sighed, nodding. "Let's go." He quickly moved to his seat next to Blaine and grabbed up the oar. The men dug the wooden oars into the water and the small boat cut through the waves. The water was flat, glass-like, reflecting the sun into their eyes, blinding them. Most men rowed with their eyes shut, especially since the whales where behind them from where they sat. Small waves moving the boat told the men they were approaching the whales.

"If we don't lose these," Blaine whispered to Jim. "They always go under when we approach. It's like they know what we want."

"They probably do know," Jim said quietly, "these waters are hunted heavily by ships from many countries. Just like deer in New England. They learn and grow wary. But we can't get back to land until we fill those damned vats with oil so we really need to kill a nice big whale today. And I guess it just has to be a sperm whale too."

Rowdy knelt to pick up a harpoon and hold it above his shoulder. "A little more, men," he hissed, "these don't seem to be diving like the others. And I am sure they are sperm this time. A whole pod of them. We just need to find a large one…"

"Get the largest one you can spot," Jim whispered, almost as a prayer. His oar dug deep into the water and his back ached as he pulled on the wooden handle. "When I get home, I am never going onto a sailing ship again. Ever."

Rowdy threw the harpoon and the rope whistled along with it, uncoiling from the deck. He quickly grabbed up a second one and threw it. "I think we have this one and it's a monster!" He threw a third one and paused to shake a fist at the second long boat. "You fools! I have this one! Go after a second one before they disappear!"

The longboat tilted and tipped, side to side and end to end, rolling in the waves caused by the dying whale. The giant fin slapped down, throwing a wave of water over the men. "Forward!" Rowdy yelled, holding yet another harpoon. "Closer!" The ropes had pulled tight, knotted to the forward end of the boat, to keep close to the doomed whale. Every movement of the beast shifted the boat and threatened to flip it over.

Blaine let go of the oar to grab his seat and the wooden handle almost hit Jim in the chin. "Grab it!" Jim snapped, irritated. Blaine grabbed the handle again but his eyes were wide with terror as the boat went alongside the whale. "We need to stay near the head and keep away from that giant tail. You think that fin throws water, that tail will destroy this flimsy boat."

As if on cue, the beast rolled and twisted, yanking the longboat sideways, closer to the animal. The tail rose up, over the heads of the men, and then smashed down. Jim dropped the oar's grip and grabbed Blaine, pulling him off the seat and to the bottom of the boat a split second before impact. The tail slapped down onto the wooden benches just behind them, hitting the men in the heads and backs. Screams, mixed with the sounds of cracking wood, were heard as the longboat over turned. Men and equipment were dumped into the ocean.

Jim's head broke the surface almost immediately and his eyes scanned the water for his shipmates. Blaine appeared next to him, as usual. "Climb onto the whale," Jim said, pushing the young man to the upturned white belly. Ropes were tangled and wrapped around the whale, giving them purchase to climb onto the animal. "Stay up here and I will hand men to you." Blaine nodded, coughing water and grabbing the nearest rope.

Jim swam around the over-turned longboat, grabbing the closest sailor and drawing them through the water, one at a time. The others that were strong swimmers also helped their friends and soon the whale was covered with men. Rowdy and Jim were the last to join their shipmates just as the second longboat arrived, towing a second, much smaller, dead whale.

"That's two," Rowdy said, "but ours is larger!" His friends cheered behind him.

"That's true," the other sailor said, standing in the point of his boat. "But I've still got a boat to pull my whale with. And what will you do to get back to the ship? Paddle the dead beast?"

"And why not?" Rowdy pointed to oars floating nearby. "We'll grab up the oars and paddle back. We may even beat you to the ship!" A friendly banter started up as Jim swam back out to grab the oars floating near the pieces of the destroyed longboat. He swam on his back with them, a few at a time, handing them up to the men.

"That's all I see," Jim said, "Let me get the boat pieces hooked to the whale and we can tow back what's left." Rowdy nodded, watching Jim swim back to the pieces of wooden planks, snarled in the ropes. All the harpoons had been buried in the whale when the crash happened so none had been lost. Jim grabbed a bit of rope and swam slowly back, pulling the broken ship along toward the whale's tail. He pulled another section of rope from the whale's body and tied the ends together.

Climbing onto the whale, Jim stood and observed his work. "Keep moving slowly and this should actually work." He stood near the back of the animal, which sloped down toward the tail that had so recently crashed down. His eyes searched the water for the usual sharks but he didn't see any. None had been spotted all day but now the water was red with blood from the terrible holes made by the harpoons. He sat down, suddenly heavy with exhaustion. He felt the whale move in the water as the oarsmen did their work. The broken boat pulled oddly behind the sleek body of the whale. They were paced by the second long boat as they moved through the water.

Rowdy yelled out to the ship, "Ahoy! Look what we have! A new boat!" He waved as the shipmates cheered from the railing. He hooked a thumb back toward the broken boat, "we have to fix the old one!" The men waved in celebration as the hunters returned with two whales, both the sought-after sperm. Many swarmed down the netting on the hull to help secure the dead animals to the ship. The oarsmen climbed up to the decks, their work complete for now.

Jim stood with Blaine and the others on the deck, all exhausted but excited to get to work processing the animals. A few men moved to the rack where the giant black cast iron pots sat, to start the fires. Rowdy moved to the Captain's quarters to report, along with the head man of the second long boat. Jim spotted Tuffy climbing down the netting on the main mast, moving slowly and stiffly.

"Tuffy, what have you been up to?" Jim walked underneath the man as the wrinkled feet and scrawny legs approached his head. "I thought you didn't climb up there anymore."

Tuffy chuckled, grinning and laughing, "oh, well, while you were all out chasing the mighty whales, I was in the crow's nest. I watched every move you made." He held out a hand to Jim as he reached the lower edge of the netting. Jim grabbed his arm and helped steady him as he lowered his feet to the deck. "Oh, when that mightly tail came down on you all, I thought everyone would be dead. The boat smashed and all of you in the water as shark bait!" He hopped up and down with excitement. "I saw you swim around and save everyone. And then you all used the whale as a boat!" He clapped his hands together. "Oh, I wish I had gone with you! I wish I was young again!"

"We should take you with us next time to keep you out of trouble," Jim said, grinning at the old man. "I thought you couldn't see very well but it sounds like you see just fine to me. "

Just then Wolvertin stomped over, obviously still angry at Jim and now glaring at the old man. "Why were you up there? That's not your place, old man!" he reached for Tuffy's shirt from but Jim stepped between them.

"Leave him alone," Jim growled, keeping his voice down. He knew Stone was in the Captain's quarters hearing Rowdy's report but could reappear at any time.

"He was in the crow's nest!" Wolvertin snapped, stepping even closer to Jim. He was a good foot taller and glared down at Jim with his fists clenched. "I don't like that. It's my spot and no one is taking it from me!"

"Your spot? You can't see a damned thing! My mother has better eyesight than you," Jim laughed. "You should be cleaning the ship's…" He ducked a punch as the taller man swung a fist at him. He backed up, his shoulders hitting the mast, as Tuffy scuttled sideways to escape. He ducked again and Wolvertin's fist the mast with a thud. Jim ducked around him and moved onto the deck. A few sailors had stopped their work to watch.

"God Damn You!" Wolvertin spun and stomped toward Jim, his fists raised in an awkward stance. His eyes darted sideways to see more men encircling him, pointing and yelling.

Jim laughed at seeing the angry man approach, knowing he wasn't a threat physically. The man was tall and lanky but not powerfully muscular and very uncoordinated. "What are you so mad about? Go climb up to your damned Crow's nest. Take a nap. Get sun blindness for all I care." He moved sideways, keeping to the open deck. He grinned at a few of the crew, trying to keep the mood light, hoping the angry man would calm down.

Wolvertin stepped forward, closing the gap. He swung his right again and Jim ducked but the angry man's left fist hooked up and clipped Jim on the cheek, knocking him back a step. Jim put his fingers to his sore face, rubbing at the stings. His eyes narrowed as anger built inside him. "I don't want to fight you over this. I'm not in your way or…" Wolvertin swung again and Jim ducked again, this time dodging the second fist. The crew was now yelling for Wolvertin to back off and get to work. Jim backed up a few more steps but could see that the main mast was behind him again, not realizing they had circled that far. As he looked for a place for more room, Wolvertin rushed him, hands outstretched, reaching for Jim's throat.

"Christ," Jim snarled, punching his right fist under an arm, hitting Wolvertin square in the gut. The man doubled over as the wind rushed out of his lungs. Jim's left jabbed him hard in the ribs, a cracking sound clearly heard. Wolvertin gasped in pain, his air whistling through clenched teeth. Jim's right came again, driving into the man's jaw. Wolvertin collapsed to the deck, twisting in pain, finally rolling into a ball, his breath wheezing weakly now.

"WEST!" Stone's voice bellowed from behind Jim's back. Jim froze, standing over his opponent, waiting silently. The fight had started fast and ended even faster, shocking the first mate. "Stop!" He yelled again, though one man lay on the wooden planks, unmoving, and the other stood, fists on hips, obviously not trying to escape. The crew, who had briefly cheered Jim's obvious fighting skill, now also froze in dreaded silence.

Stone stomped forward, moving around Wolvertin's form to face Jim. "What is this? What have you done to him? Do you think we have extra crew to be beaten to death whenever you feel like brawling? This isn't a tavern of drunkards, dammit!"

Rowdy stepped forward, hesitating, from the crew behind Stone. "Mr. Stone, sir," he said quietly, "The crew are telling me that Jim here tried to not fight him. He only hit back after Wolvertin hit him first."

Stone glared over his shoulder, causing Rowdy to step back. He turned back to Jim, "the punishment for fighting is to have your hand cut off! You knew that when you came on board…"

"Came on board?!" Jim snarled back, "You make it sound like I volunteered! I have tried to be patient and useful to this ship and have done everything I've been ordered to do. I was just protecting myself from this idiot!" He kicked his toe into Wolvertin's thigh. "He isn't injured, he can get up at any time, can't you?" He said, glaring down at the man still lying at his feet.

Stone stepped forward and Jim backed up again, his fists raised. Stone looked down at Jim's fists and his look got even darker. "You raise your hands to me and I'll kill you," he growled. He reached down and dragged Wolvertin to his feet. "Get up!" he shook the man, "you're not injured." Wolvertin stood, his arms wrapped around his sore ribcage. His left eye was blackening and his jaw had a red area swelling. "Wolvertin, you know the punishment for fighting too. Now did you start this fight?"

Wolvertin cried out in panic, "no, no…it was him, not me…" The crew nearby all yelled out jeers of protest but Stone snarled at them, cutting them off. "Both of you will go to the Captain and confess and get your punishment!" He started to drag Wolvertin forward but stopped as the Captain walked toward them.

"Mr. Stone," The Captain said slowly, "I have heard what transpired." He looked from Wolvertin to Jim, who had straightened and dropped his fists at the Captain had approach. Jim looked him in the eyes, unflinching, "West, I am disappointed in you. And you," he said, looking at Wolvertin, who was now visibly shaking and staring at the deck, "well, I am not surprised at you, unfortunately. Punishment must be dealt out from time to time on a sailing ship. This is very much like a small town anywhere on land. We have our differences but we must live to together. So any punishment must fit the crime and the people involved allowed to continue to exist, if possible, within our society. As you have seen by Mr. Holliday's departure, leaving our society for another is not always a positive occurrence. Therefore we strive to make our own resolutions." He nodded to Stone, "in the past, our resolutions have been sometimes too forceful. And I do not see that any serious crime has been done here. Reminds me of the old days where men sorted out their differences with their fists, much like brothers coming to terms as they become men." He nodded to both adversaries and then looked to the crew. "Punishment will be immediate and my word will not be challenged. I declare them to be given five lashes each and then no further will we discuss it. No continued disagreement will be tolerated between these two men and no encouragement to fight will be tolerated by anyone else. Do I make myself clear?" The crew grumbled but nodded quickly. The Captain turned back to Jim and Wolvertin, "and do I make myself clear to both of you?" Jim nodded, staying silent, relieved that five lashes was the punishment and not having a hand chopped off. He had had more lashes than that in his undercover work. Wolvertin also appeared relieved. Stone, however, seemed very angry. His face was red and his teeth clenched but he silently nodded also. "Good," the Captain said, turning on his heels to walk back to his doorway. "See that its done," he said over his shoulder as he disappeared inside.

The crew backed away as Stone dragged Wolvertin to the main mast. He shoved him against it, "do I tie you up or will ya stand for punishment?" Wolvertin nodded, still shaking. Stone turned to Jim, pointing to the mast as he backed up, "You, stand there. Or be tied to the mast!" Jim walked over to stand next to Wolvertin. The crew came forward making a half circle. Stone turned to them, "get all the crew here, even the cooks. All must watch punishment drill."

Jim swallowed, knowing Artemus would be very upset and might even try to intervene. He prayed that he somehow couldn't be found or interrupted. But very soon, Charley and Artemus appeared; surprise clearly on their faces at what was happening. The crew maneuvered them in the middle of the crowd. He could see Rowdy quickly step to Artie's side, whispering in his ear. Artemus looked to Jim, his eyes narrowing in anger. Jim shook his head briefly as Stone walked to a rack of equipment nearby. Artie looked upset but nodded briefly back to him. Jim returned his attention to Stone as the First mate returned, carrying a coiled whip. Jim felt a shiver run up his spine, knowing this wouldn't be as easy as he had hoped, even with only five lashes.

Stone turned to the crew and pointed to a hulk of a man in the back. "You!" He waved him forward. The crew parted as the man walked through the group. Artie opened his mouth to speak but Rowdy quickly grabbed his arm and shook his head no. Artie shut his mouth but his eyes watched the large man approach Stone.

"Here, you do it," Stone snarled. "And don't be easy on them. I know the tricks of this crew. You do the work or I'll have you standing with them." He shoved the whip into the man's hands.

The man nervously took the whip and stepped back, his eyes moving to his friends in the crowd and then to the two men, looking at each in turn. Angry murmurs and shuffling feet caught Stone's attention. "Quiet!" He turned to Jim and Wolvertin. "Turn around and don't move or we will do this more than once!" Wolvertin turned and hunched over, staring at his feet, still shaking.

Jim turned slowly and stood, ram rod straight, looking beyond the mast at the ocean, feeling a bit of breeze blow his hair. How the heck did this all happen, he wondered. He flinched as he heard the whip crack, and at the same instant, Wolvertin cried out in pain. He tensed his muscles and set his jaw, waiting…and then he felt it. The sharp stinging burn of the leather whip biting his skin through his shirt. Should've removed my shirt, he thought to himself, as the cowering man next to him shrieked even louder at the second strike. He ground his teeth and felt the second sting, the whip hitting higher across his shoulders. He gasped out a breath and drew in another quickly clamping his teeth again. Wolvertin screamed again and fell against Jim, leaning against Jim's knee. Hands pulled him away and shoved him against the mast. The move gave Jim time for another breath, just as the whip lanced again across his shoulders. He blinked, trying to keep his eyes focused on the waves. Is it once more or twice more, his befuddled mind thought?

Shouting erupted behind Jim as Stone marched forward, turning on the large man with the whip. "I told you to not go easy on them or you'll join them! Now do it right!"

The man turned and lashed the whip across Wolvertin. The man shrieked again and fell onto the ground, on his hands and knees. Long red welts were showing through his shirt. The man turned and whipped Jim again, the whip landing across his right side and over his shoulder, the tip biting into his color bone. Jim flinched to the left, almost falling. He gasped as the whip was yanked away. Red lines on his back showed through the tears in his shirt.

"Damn you," Wolvertin yelled again. He stomped closer and ripped the whip from the man's grasp, shoving him backwards into the crew. "I'll show you how this is done! We will start over!" He spun and snapped the whip, with a crack, across Wolvertin's back. The man shrieked as the whip cut a red slash across his back. Blood spattered over the leather and across the deck.

Jim turned, in his stupor of pain, to see Wolvertin on the planks next to him. He started to shift away but Stone was too quick, not pausing as the sailor had done. The whip cracked over him, tearing a bloody line across his spine. Jim gasped in pain, seeing stars, and fell heavily against the mast. His fingernails dug into the wood to keep from falling.

The sailors all yelled out in protest, many shaking their fists. "Enough!" "That makes 5", others yelled. Stone ignored them and drew the whip back again, striking Wolvertin as the man lay on the deck. The whip bit into his back and thighs, hitting him at an odd angle. Stone kicked him, yelling, "stand up, we're starting over and I'm doing the work this time!" Stone turned toward Jim, drawing his arm back, but Artemus had pushed through the crowd and maneuvered toward Jim. He leaped between Stone and his partner as the whip came down. He threw up his right arm and rolled his shoulder, turning his face toward Jim's back. The whip wrapped around his right wrist and landed down his upper arm and shoulder.

"Out of the way!" Stone snarled. He started t retrieve the whip but Artie turned back to face him, yanking on the whip's end now in his grasp. He pulled with his right hand and grabbed another section with his left and hauled even harder. Stone, off balance, started to fall forward toward him, surprise on his face. Artie stepped closer, his left fist coming up sharply and connecting with Stone's chin. All the anger, the frustration of the kidnapping, the lack of food, the missed date with Christian, all suddenly came to him as he swung. His fist slammed Stone's jaw shut and the man's teeth clacked together with a sharp bang. Stone's eyes widened in surprise and then glazed over as he fell to the deck.

The crew stood completely silent, their collective mouths hung open. Artie straightened and removed the whip from his right hand. He turned to the rails and threw the long coil overboard. The length flew through the air like a snake and then instantly disappeared below into the sea.

"You alright," Artie said quietly, as he crossed quickly to Jim. He gently pulled his friend up straighter on his feet. "Can you stand?"

"Ya," Jim hissed, twisting his back. Color came back to his face and he looked down at Stone. "What the hell, partner? Using force?" He gave Artie a lop-sided grin and leaned his shoulder against the mast. He nodded down at Wolvertin, "can you check on him? I hope he isn't too injured, the idiot."

Artie knelt next to the now-unconscious sailor. Wolvertin was laid out flat on the deck, face down. His back with covered with deep red cuts. His bloody shirt hung in rags and blood was spattered onto the decking. Artie looked to Rowdy, "can you get a bucket of sea water? The salt will cleanse these wounds." Rowdy hurried to get the water as the Captain appeared.

"I witnessed this," the Captain said, looking from Wolvertin to Jim and then to Artemus. "I did not wish to have any injured crew. We need everyone to do this work." He paused as Stone groaned and began to wake up. "Stone, wake yourself and attend me in my quarters when you are fully alert." He nodded to Jim, "I think it best for you to take the Crow's nest. Even wounded, I imagine you have the best eyesight of any of us," he said, "if you feel confident you can make the climb?"

"I'm fine, sir," Jim said, standing straight now with his hands behind his back.

"Good," The Captain said, "keep an eye out for the pirates, now that we will be busy with the whale processing." He smiled to the crew, "or should I say two whales! Good work, men!" He gave a short salute to the sailors are they cheered. "And let's work together as a team from now on." Stone pushed himself to his knees. "And that is precisely what you and I will be discussing, Mr. Stone," he said, "a new way of doing things, I fear, is long overdue for this ship." He turned and walked back to his quarters.

Stone glared up at Jim and then slide his dark look to Artemus, "you," he growled, filling the word with hate. Artie glared back as he helped Wolvertin to his feet. "You, a damn cook? I don't think…"

"Try not to think," Artie said, "you'll just hurt yourself." He paused, looking over at Jim, "can you climb up to the crow's nest?" Jim nodded, "Come down later and I'll clean your back up." He stepped around Stone as the first mate struggled to regain his feet. "Watch your jaw, Stone, I believe it's made of glass." The crew roared in laughter as Artie helped Wolvertin away.

Jim watched the first mate, the pit of his stomach churning at the look the man gave his partner. He waited until Artie had moved into the ship's doorway that lead the galley, and then turned to look up at the crow's nest far above him. He had to tilt his head and lean backwards to see that far above him. The crew cheered him on and Jim turned to grin at them. He walked to the nettings and began to slowly climb up the main mast.

Tbc…..


	13. Chapter 13 From Bad to Worse

Chapter 13. From Bad to Worse

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Artie sat in his chair in the galley writing on a piece of paper. Charley was sound asleep in the upper bunk area of the small room, in a narrow bit of closet they had recently cleared out to make room for their own sleeping quarters. He scratched at the coarse paper with a nub of an old pencil trying to plan meals for the crew, utilizing the most perishable food first.

"Aunt Maud," he muttered softly, "you would never believe how the crazy cooking skills you taught me would come in handy on a sailing ship." He shook his head and checked the open door of the galley, waiting for Jim. Sighing tiredly, he stood and put the paper on the chair and tucked the pencil behind his ear. Charley stirred behind him.

"Is Mr. Jim back yet?" the boy asked sleepily.

"Not yet," Artie whispered, "go back to sleep. I'm sure he'll just have a quick bowl of stew and…" a chair scuffed in the galley and he hurried out to see his friend drop into one. "Jim," he hissed, sitting down next to him. "Are you all right?"

"I'm not sure," Jim said slowly, his eyes closing. He leaned over onto the table, his arms crossed on the wooden top. "I have never been this tired in my life."

"Well don't fall asleep yet," Artie said, "I've got your dinner ready and a good, stiff drink." He jumped back to his feet and hurried into the galley, grabbing a pot off the stove and a bottle from the counter. He returned to see Jim, his forehead on his wrists, snoring soundly. He put the meal on the table and gently shook his partner's shoulder. "Wake up, you need to eat. Here, drink this first." He waited for Jim to sit up again, though he still leaned over his forearms.

"What is it?" Jim asked, reaching out with his eyes still shut. Artie placed the bottle into his fingers. "Crew's rum? Or Rose's wine collection?"

"I've no idea," Artie chuckled, "probably Rose. Its brandy, good for the inside and the outside. Drink some and I'll use the rest of it to clean your back. Wolvertin got salt water so be glad I saved the brandy for you." He poured the hot stew into the bowl and stuck a spoon in it.

"Salt water on his back?" Jim took a long drink and set the bottle on the table. "That's harsh. What's for supper?" He reached for the bowl and began eating, noticing the large chunks of meat. "Is this beef? Where did this come from?"

Artie hooked a thumb over his shoulder, "the Captain's metal box is full of dried beef and pork. It's only supposed to be for him and Rose but a good cook always tastes a meal before serving. So I kept a little extra out for you and Charley too." He grinned, "don't tell Charley but the Captain won't miss it. I replenished his dried pork with the pigs you killed on the island." He sighed, dully watching Jim eat. "That seems like a year ago now."

"Time flies when you're having fun," Jim said, scraping the bowl clean. He took another gulp of the brandy and tilted the bottle toward the light. "Is that metal crate full of bottles too or did you swipe this from his quarters?"

"Me? Steal?" Artie puffed up his chest in mock anger. "If you can't trust your cook, who can you trust?" He grinned as Jim rolled his eyes. "I heard an interesting story about the crew. When I got dragged up on the deck, when you and Wolvertin were going to get your punishment, Rowdy was quick to tell me what they do here. Apparently he was afraid I would stop the proceedings, which I did anyway, but…"

"But what?" Jim said tiredly, his eyes half closing. "You'll have to make this quick. I'm falling asleep sitting here."

Artie snorted, "Rowdy said the Captain always calls for five lashes and the crew has all agreed that, no matter who is chosen, the person doesn't use the whip very hard. Just enough to cause some red marks. He said he thinks the Captain knows it but doesn't want the crew injured anyway so he doesn't protest. But Stone knows it also, which is why he got so mad and frustrated today." He paused, "Rowdy said it was the first time Stone ever took the whip himself."

"Glad you were there, partner," Jim whispered, "this isn't a good place to get injured." He sighed again, "but we'll have to watch Stone even more now. He'll be mad at both of us and really want revenge. His authority was challenged and the crew knows it. And the Captain didn't back him up either. Stone won't be happy with the crew or the Captain."

"Ya," Artie nodded, "I was very surprised when he went down so easy. I just wanted to get the whip out of his grip. I didn't think I'd knock him out." Artie chuckled again. "glass jaw."

Jim grinned, giving his partner a slow punch to the shoulder, "you can punch pretty well when you're mad. You just hate to admit it."

Artie snorted again, "hurt my hand too. I guess I should practice punching wooden boards like you do." He flexed his hand, looking at the red scuff marks on his knuckles. "But Stone will hopefully leave you alone in the Crow's nest, which is why the Captain sent you there, I suspect. And he won't bother me since I'm feeding everyone. But there are always accidents…"

"Ya," Jim said, leaning his face onto his hands. "Good night. Wake me before dawn, will ya?"

"Wait," Artie said, standing. "You can sleep in my bed. Come on." He grabbed Jim's elbow and slowly helped him to his feet. "I need to fix your back and maybe sew your shirt together. You don't have an extensive ward robe with you on this trip."

"We should have planned better," Jim grinned, leaning on the back of chairs as they made their way through the mess hall and into the galley. "So this is where you two sleep while I'm in the main room? Nice and private," he said, his eyes looking up at Charley and then at the empty, lower bunk. He slowly lowered himself to the thin mat on the bunk and lay forward onto his face. "Wake me before…" he immediately started snoring into the blankets.

"Ya, ya," Artie said, "wake you before dawn." He set the bottle of brandy onto the floor and slowly lifted Jim's legs and feet onto the small bed. Then he carefully peeled the torn, filthy, white shirt off his partner's shoulders and back. Moving his friend's arms and rolling him around only made him snore louder. Threads of the shirt clung briefly to the bloody skin but Artie gently pulled them off.

"Is that Mr. Jim?" Charley said, leaning over from his bunk. "Is he ok?"

"He's fine, Charley," Artie said, grinning up at the kid. "Now get back to sleep. I hope his snoring doesn't disturb you." He winked at the boy and the tussled head disappeared. Artie picked up a clean square of cloth and poured some brandy on it. He began wiping Jim's back, cleaning the torn skin on the deepest cut. The other red marks were raised and ugly but the skin wasn't broken. He soaked a second piece of cloth with more brandy and laid the cloth over the open wound. "Good thing you were asleep for that, buddy," he whispered. He stood and pulled the blanket over Jim's back and arms, careful not to disturb the bandage. Jim shifted slightly but continued to snore.

Artie picked up Jim's shirt and walked to the galley. He dunked the filthy cloth in a basin of salt water repeatedly until the blood and dirt washed off. He twisted the cloth to squeeze the water out over the sink, trying to make as little noise as possible. He finally shook it out as he walked through the mess hall. He shut the door and kicked a wedge of wood underneath the lower edge, making a lock of sorts. He returned to the galley and to his chair, sitting slowly with a long sigh. He picked up his needle and thread and began to stitch the shirt back together.

Next morning…..

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"You might as well wear my shirt today. I even washed it." Artie said, nodding toward his yellow shirt hanging on a hook in the bunk frame. "I haven't finished fixing your shirt yet. I should have it put back together after a few more hours." He held up Jim's old shirt, grey and tattered. The blood was gone but only a few of the slashes had been stitched back together.

"Artie," Jim said, a crooked grin on his face, "Life is tough enough around here without wearing a yellow shirt." He held his hand out and wiggled his fingers. Artie growled and tossed his shirt to him. "Thanks for trying to fix it. I let you work on it more tonight," he said, slowly pulling the shirt on. He stretched and twisted his sore back, "I think I will stay in the crow's nest all day, staying out of the way, if you know what I mean. Maybe you can send some food up to me later this morning."

"Ya," Artie said, standing as Jim climbed to his feet. "Can you make it up to the deck and then climb that high?"

Jim stood on swaying feet, "I'm fine. Really," he said, moving past Artie in the narrow doorway. "Stay down here too, keep out of sight." He walked through the galley and moved out of sight down the hall.

Later that morning….

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Jim blinked into the sun, shading his face with his hands. He looked across the water, seeing nothing as far as he could see toward all the horizons. The thought of a pirate ship possibly being nearby was keeping his tired mind sharp. He leaned back against the wide wooden mast behind him, shifting his back to keep from touching his wounds.

"Hey, you up there?" Artie's voice drifted up from below.

Jim leaned over to look down toward the deck. He was surprised to see his partner climbing up the nettings that surrounded the sails. "I can't believe you're actually climbing up here?" Jim watched as Artie slowly and carefully climbed up the ropes. "You know you have to climb back down too?"

Artie paused, stopping a few feet below the crow's nest, to look up at Jim. "Ya, I know. I can climb as well as you can." He looked down again, his hands gripping tighter, "it is pretty high up here though." He moved up the last few feet and stopped again. "How the heck do you get over there to that little deck? I thought it would be larger than that."

Jim sighed, leaning out over the railing. "Put your right hand on the first post of this railing," he said slowly, pointing. "And then shift your weight and put your right foot over onto the deck. Shift your weight and then just stand up."

"Ya, ya," Artie grumbled, doing as directed. "Damn ship moves too much." He moved carefully but soon found himself standing next to Jim on the small round disk that surrounded the top of the mast. He looked around, surveying the ocean. "What a view," he whispered. The ship tilted and he gripped the railing, his knuckles white.

"You really feel the movement up here," Jim nodded. "Nice view but so far, nothing to see. Did you bring my lunch?" He looked at the tin container hanging from a wire hanger around Artie's left wrist. "Or a late breakfast, I lost track of time."

"Yes, here," Artie said, as if just remembering the container. "Can we sit before I fall off? I'm taking a break from whale cooking." They slid carefully down the mast's side to sit, leaning against it, feet outstretched, facing the blue sky. "This is actually very comfortable. No wonder Wolvertin fell asleep a lot up here. I feel like a lazy cat."

Jim snorted as he pulled the cover off the metal cylinder. "So what's this? More stew? You know how I hate stew," Jim said, winking at his friend. "I would kill for a steak," he said, taking a spoon from the handle as it stood inside the liquid.

"Wouldn't we all," Artie whispered. "A nice, thick steak at Delmonico's, with a pretty date."

Jim stirred the soup and tried to guess what was in it. Giving up, he began spooning it into his mouth. "It's good," he said, "but I'm starving so I'm probably not really tasting this anyway. When we get back to the train, I don't want to see stew or soup or anything that even resembles it. Even runny eggs."

"When we get back," Artie agreed, nodding, "not if."

"We'll get back," Jim said, scraping the already empty can. "So tell me what's happening downstairs? Those vats getting filled up yet? The small whale is cut up and cooked. That big one should really fill some vats."

Artie closed his eyes and lifted his face to the sun. "I did go down to the lower decks to see what was going on. I hadn't seen that part of the process. If I have to learn a dying profession, I don't want to miss anything." He paused, rubbing sweat off his forehead. "A lot are being filled but there's a lot more to go. I think it's about a third so far. The larger whale might make us half way, unless there are vats I didn't see."

"Half way," Jim said, thinking. "And we've been on board now for almost four months. We've missed spring and now into summer. Richmond has got to be looking for us. I thought a military ship would have caught up to us by now." He voice took on an edge, "unless they think we're dead and aren't looking for us at all."

"That's a cheerful thought," Artie groaned. "Well just think how happy they'll all be when we get back."

"Richmond will give my train to another agent," Jim said, as Artie rolled his eyes next to him. "Horse is probably at a glue factory by now." He shook his head, as if to break his mood. "All right, think positive, what the hell can we do to fix this situation?"

"Kill whales and fill the vats," Artie shrugged, "Everyone says we are in the happy hunting grounds and life should be easy and carefree. But they also say it can take a year or more. We've been four months so far."

"I wonder where we actually are," Jim said, looking around but only seeing the wide, empty ocean. "We started in Washington and went south, very south, but very slowly." He scratched a rough map with a thumbnail into the wooden deck at his feet. "Started in Washington," he muttered to himself, "then south until we found islands, very hot and humid weather," he paused, drawing the continents, "then we went north in that storm." He drew a line north. "The air isn't cold but it's clear. No icebergs floating around so we aren't that far north. And we are in August…" he paused as he drew the American coast line. "Maine? What's north of Maine?"

"New Brunswick," Artie said. He pointed at Jim's crude map, "Then Nova Scotia, it's a long island that sticks out into the ocean, almost parallel to the land. They build ships and do a lot of fishing, You'd love it."

"Bunch of stew eaters," Jim growled, "But maybe that's where we will be heading next. It must be attached to the mainland. If we could drop a longboat and move toward land…"

"There must be land anywhere East of where we are," Artie said, rubbing his chin now in thought, studying the map. "We are in the Atlantic ocean, after all. It's more a question of distance and time, and the ability to carry enough water."

"Well we will keep it in mind," Jim sighed, sitting back. "Something will happen. This should be a busy shipping area. We know a lot of people in the Navy. If just one ship would swing by," he paused, "I wonder if this ship ever gets inspected by the Navy when it's at sea."

"That's a great thought," Artie said, "maybe a British ship will stop us, grab some sailors, and we could start a whole new career as British seamen." He rolled his eyes, "nothing would surprise me. Get impressed by the Navy while kidnapped by whale hunters."

"I think you're getting ahead of yourself," Jim laughed quietly, "besides I don't think they do that anymore." They sat quietly for a few minutes, relaxing in the sun, lulled by the gentle swaying of this ship. "Did you have a lot of money with you when we got grabbed?" Jim opened one eye to look at his friend.

"Ah," Artie said, his brows wrinkling, "a few hundred, I think. I always have a few bills hidden in secret pockets. Don't you?"

"Ya," Jim said, nodding, "I was just thinking of train tickets and food and clothing," he said, "so we can travel back to Washington once we land; if no one found our money when they stole our coats."

"When we travel back to Washington!" Artie grinned, "that's a nice thought. Trains, carriages, stopping to eat, sleeping in a real bed on a real mattress." He let out a long sigh, "and actually go out on that date with Christian."

Jim snorted, "that was months ago. She's probably moved on, maybe even gotten married…" he turned to grin at his partner. "Don't glare at me. Being four months late for a date is really bad. She probably won't forgive you. You know how women are."

"Idiot," Artie laughed, "she isn't married and she'll be thrilled to see me." He looked down at the deck, watching the men. "I guess I'd better get back to work. Some of us have real jobs on this boat, not relaxing in the sun working on our tans."

Jim's eyes narrowed, "Stone been around?"

Artie shrugged, "I haven't seen him much," he nodded toward the small upper deck by the helm. "He has been in and out of the Captain's quarters and at the helm. I wonder if they are doing some detailed navigation. I need to meet with the Captain tonight to see about using the sextant and.."

"The what?" Jim asked, looking very skeptical. "Captain? Sex? I don't think I heard you right."

Artie rolled his eyes, "sextant. It's a measuring device using the distance between the stars compared to the horizon to figure out where you are on a map. I've read about them and he has one. I was going to have a private lesson but I was busy with you and Wolvertin last night."

"Sounds like a good way to have a private conversation," Jim nodded, "learn where we are. Maybe he would show you the maps and discuss where they usually travel to in this area. They must have to resupply. They must have gone to Washington just for more crew."

"Ya, lots of drunkards who were easy pickings," Artie said nodding. "But not skilled. When you need cheap labor to do the easy work. Like Wolvertin," he chuckled. "He's been demoted to cleaning and he can't manage to do that. I'm not sure how he managed to get assigned to the crow's nest. Seeing is pretty important work."

"I thought so until I climbed up here," Jim sighed. "I have to admit this is harder than it looks. You stare at the empty sea, into the blazing sun, until your blind and sleepy." He shook his head. "I've only done it for a day and a half and I swear I keep thinking I see things and then objects aren't there…" He paused, squinting. He quickly stood up and leaned out over the railing, grasping the wooden edge. "Like now…" he muttered, "do you see anything?"

Artie climbed slowly to his feet, keeping his hands on the mast and railing, he stood next to Jim. He looked where his partner looked, "I don't see anything. The sun is too bright and reflects on the water. It's blinding." He paused, squinting. "Wait, is that a..?"

"A ship?" Jim turned to him, "you can see it, right? I'm not calling out to anyone until you can see it too. I swear I'm imagining it."

"No, I can see a ship," Artie nodded, "Three masts, square sails like this one, dark sides on the ship." He looked down at the deck, "Rowdy is down there. I can call him over."

"It's so far out," Jim said, "I doubt he can see it from the deck with the curve of the Earth. Maybe he could climb up here."

"Well, I'll climb down and ask him to join you," Artie said, picking up the lunch pail. He paused, looking down to the deck far below, "damn, hate climbing down more than climbing up." He grabbed the railing and squatted down. He slowly stuck out a foot toward the netting.

"Wait until the ship tips out and swing with it," Jim said, watching his partner. "Just keep a good grip with your right hand." He flinched as he watched Artie step off the small deck and swing to the netting. Releasing his breath, he relaxed as his partner easily grabbed the ropes and clung to the netting. "See, easy," he said, "you might be a pirate yet."

"Ya, right," Artie called over his shoulder as he began climbing down.

Jim turned back to the horizon, squinting at the ship. It flickered in and out of his sight like a mirage. "Damn, be a nice Navy ship and not a stinking pirate," he breathed. He turned to watch Artie speak to Rowdy and point out to sea. Rowdy quietly nodded and began to climb up.

"Hey," Jim said in greeting.

"Hey, Jim," Rowdy grinned, "are you seeing pirate ships again?" He jumped to the deck with ease, and stood next to him. "Out there?" He nodded, "yes, that's a ship. Hard to say what it is from that distance. Is it coming closer?"

"I've only watched for a few minutes," Jim said, "it seems to gliding along the horizon. Should you tell the Captain?"

"Let's watch for a few minutes," Rowdy said, "so I can report more details about its path. If it's a pirate, it won't attack until dark. Or in the fog of morning. Sneaking bastards."

"Maybe it's a Navy ship," Jim breathed. "Does the Navy ever inspect ships?"

Rowdy shrugged, "I have seen them come along side and holler to the Captain. I haven't seen them board. Why, you thinking of joining the Navy next?" He grinned. "Be better than a pirate's life!"

"No," Jim grinned, "I don't need to change my career again. I was just wondering what the ship was and why it might be hanging around. I can't see any flags or pennants, can you?" Rowdy squinted again into the horizon and shook his head. "If it was a navy ship, it would have flags. So what else is out here. Another whaler? This ship doesn't run any flags, does it?" As if he had missed them, Jim twisted his neck, looking at all the masts.

Rowdy shook his head, "Captain says it's safer to not declare your country of origin. No laws out here in the ocean."

"No protection either,' Jim growled, "and what do we have for defense? Two cannon that Artie has working. And a barrel of old swords. If I could get to my guns, Artie and I could protect this ship." Rowdy turned back to look at the sea. Jim sighed, knowing it wasn't his young friend's fault. "Well, I'll keep an eye on the ship. Maybe it will just disappear."

Rowdy nodded, "Thanks." He looked at Jim, adding, "I know this has been tough on your and Artie. Most people that join the ship have no life and take on this life instead. Like Blaine did. But you and Artie have lives already, I guess. We all really depend on you two now," he said, grinning, "but I know you can't stay forever."

Jim nodded, "we do have a life that we need to get back to. This is good for you and Blaine, though the Captain could make this a little more pleasant for everyone. Better food, living conditions. He should get rid of Stone and promote one of the crew as the first mate."

"That would all be great," Rowdy nodded. "Maybe you could fix all that before you leave." He laughed, "or take me with you."

Sunset later that day…..

[

]

Jim squinted into the sun, trying to see the ship clearly. He could see men moving around in the mast on the decks. He looked down at the large longboat being paddled toward the whaler. Jim turned to Blaine, who was standing at his shoulder, as usual. "Get Artie up here, fast as you can," he hissed. Blaine turned and ran for the doorway that lead to the galley. Jim turned to look over his opposite shoulder, "Tuffy," he whispered to the old man, "get those swords handed out. But keep them hidden." He turned back to the railing, watching the small boat approach. He could hear scurrying and whispered words behind him and knew the crew was following his instructions.

"Ahoy," a man yelled from the longboat. "Permission to board?"

"Come aboard," The First Mate said as he stood at the railing farther down the deck. The Captain stood father behind him, dressed in his more formal coat, a dark green pea jacket. Rowdy stood near the Captain's elbow with a ledger book and quill, ready to record the exchange.

Jim leaned over the rail to watch the men move from the longboat to the webbed ropes that hung down the hull. A group of five men, the first two were very young, followed by a tall, older man who looked similar to the Captain of the whaler. Then two more, older and rougher looking men followed, their faces deeply lined by the wind and sun. The men each climbed up and easily threw a leg up and over the railing.

"Welcome aboard," Stone said, saluting. "I present Captain of the whaling ship, Anguish." The Captain stepped forward, and stood at Stone's side. Rowdy hovered behind, nearby.

"The Commander, of the USS Macedonian, Captain Alfred Mahan," a young man announced. He stepped back and the older, tall man stepped forward importantly.

Jim squinted into the sharp rays of the setting sun trying to see the man's face. He heard Artie step behind his shoulder. "Can you see his face? Is it him?"

"Is it Captain Alfred Mahan?" Artie snorted, "Mahan was made Admiral years ago. And the Macedonian has been used as a training ship since the war."

"Maybe they sold it," Jim said, "government always needs money. Seems like the real Mahan would be much older than this guy. Son maybe?"

Artie shrugged, his eyes going to inspect the ship. "That ship isn't a frigate anyway. I can see a few cannon but not many. Not enough if it was still in the Navy, that's for sure." He stepped to Jim's side, turning his back to the scene, to look his partner in the eye. "And those aren't Navy uniforms. Those men can't even walk properly, much less dress properly. It's like a cheap theater show during summer stock productions."

"Well you should know about cheap summer stock productions," Jim chuckled, grinning at his friend and got a glare in return. He nodded with a long sigh, "I thought they were a fake as soon as the ship hailed us. And I swear that ship was not flying a flag this afternoon. I've watched it for hours in this sun until I'm half blind."

They paused as the group of men all moved to the doorway that lead to the Captain's quarters, except for two men, one younger and one much older, who stayed behind at the railing.

Jim nodded to them, "what are those two guarding?"

"Captain's quarters are too small for everyone," Artie shrugged. He asked quietly, "So you think they're pirates? Not Navy and a merchant wouldn't come in, pretending to be military."

"They're pirates," Jim said, his eyes watching the men on the other ship. It floated nearby, the sails slack, men leaning lazily against the masts and other equipment on the decks. "Those men aren't dressed like navy sailors. They only have enough outfits to fake the officers. And the decks are a mess of ropes and gear. A Navy deck would have all the equipment stacked, lashed, and secured." He turned back to Artie, "I asked Tuffy to hand out swords and knives but keep them hidden."

"They could kill the Captain pretty easily in his cabin," Artie said, "and Rose and Rowdy too."

"Stone's there," Jim said, "he's an ass to the crew but he is big and scary looking. He will give those men pause before they attack. Besides I think they will do what they have planned on the deck. That's why those two are waiting," he said quietly, looking toward the two standing nearby. "And that crew looks bored and lazy but not one is sitting, everyone is on their feet and at the ready."

"I told Charlie to stay in the galley," Artie whispered, "no matter how this ends, the winners will need a cook."

Jim turned to look at him, "maybe you should join him. You could survive this, same as Charlie, by saying you're a cook." The dark eyes glared back at him so intensely that he grinned, "ok, ok, maybe you'd rather grab a sword or stand by a cannon."

"Both" Artie growled. "I'll speak to my cannon crew and pick out the longest sword I can find," Artie snapped, still bristling at the mention of him hiding with the young boy in the galley. "What are you going to do?"

"I'm going to keep an eye on those two," Jim said, looking back at the pirate ship. "I think I'll see their signal before they move. Then these two closest ones are going to get tipped into the drink. We'll see what the crew does. If we fight this part of the gang quick enough, maybe those others won't be encouraged to come over here and join in. They don't look that brave to me." He looked back to his friend, giving him a hard look, "this won't be a sword fight on a stage. Can you actually use a sword in a real fight?"

"Where the hell is all this lack of confidence coming from all of a sudden?" Artie smacked Jim on the shoulder, "try not to get chopped to pieces yourself." He turned and walked down the deck and disappeared through the doorway leading to the lower decks.

Jim watched his friend move away and then turned to watch the two men standing on the deck father down the rail. Jim took a deep breath and started to walk toward them.

]

[

"Charlie," Artie whispered, as he stood in the galley, "are you in here somewhere?" A cupboard under a counter in the deep shadowed recess of the small room creaked open slowly. "You are hidden. Good job." He approached the door and knelt down, seeing the boy's scared eyes. "I want to you keep in here until I come get you. Or Jim or Rowdy or…well, hopefully one of us will be down after." Charlie blinked but stayed silent. Artie took another deep breath, "I'm going to go up to the middle deck by the cannons. Don't worry if you hear a lot of noise. No matter how this turns out, you watch out for you, understand?"

The boy nodded, mumbling a quiet, "ok."

"Ok, then," Artie said, trying to smile, "you close back up. I'll shut the doors on the way out." He stood and stepped back, waiting for the small cupboard door to shut. He turned quickly and hurried from the galley and through the mess hall, closing doors as he went. He had a sudden vision of the ship sinking or starting on fire and the boy being trapped. He paused, with his hand on the last door knob, about to turn back, to grab the boy and keep him close, but he shook off the feeling of dread. He hurried up a short flight of steps to the middle deck.

"Hey, Artie," a man called out to him as he hurried across the low ceilinged deck. "We got them both ready. When do we fire?" The man was kneeling behind a cannon, his hand on the breech. "They are both loaded and ready!"

Artie hurried to his side and looked out of the square hole beyond the cannon's muzzle. The opposing ship floated peacefully nearby. The deck of both ships was just above them.

"One shot will blow a good hole in their side. But it won't sink their ship. Won't even slow it down." The cackling laughter came from the shadows of the deck behind the steps.

"Tuffy," Artie snapped, "what are you doing down here. Didn't Jim ask you to get the swords handed out?" He squinted into the darkness, wondering what the old man was doing.

"Oh, yes, sir, he did," Tuffy laughed. "He said to keep them hidden too. Well a man can't walk the deck with a sword hidden in his clothes. So I am hiding down here, giving them all a good sharpening. Want to pick one out?"

Artie walked over to watch Tuffy work. The old man was sitting on the deck, underneath the steps, with a long sword over his crossed legs. He drew a stone down the length of a curved blade with a scraping sound. The blade flashed in the slanting rays of the sun as the old man worked with it.

"You can cut a man in half with this blade," Tuffy said reverently, holding the blade up. He turned the handle, his eyes watching the edge for any rough knicks. His eyes darted to Artemus, "you know how to use this?" Artie nodded quietly. "Then you take it and protect the ship. I'll be up with the rest for the others. What does your friend use for a blade?"

Artie took the sword, his long tapered fingers easily gripping the handle inside the protective ornate basket. He pointed with the blade's tip at another sword, "that one there. The straight blade with the longer handle. I've seen him use that type before."

Tuffy picked the sword up, "I always called this a smallsword," he said quietly, "though I'm sure some would have a fancier name for it." He began to sharpen it, drawing the stone down the straight blade. "Heavy sword, but not too short, good for stabbing, cutting, or just hitting." He cackled as he worked.

Artie backed up a few steps and slashed his sword in great curves. The blade swooshed through the air as he moved, easily balancing the grip. He nodded to himself and turned back to the cannon. "Are there enough additional powder and shot to keep them both loaded", he asked again. The men standing by both guns nodded. "All right, we just wait." He turned back to the old man behind the steps, "Tuffy, you said putting holes in that ship won't damage it. What did you mean?"

"I said you won't sink it. You got two cannon and you got shot loaded for a fight," Tuffy cackled, "but you ain't aiming in the right place!" He dissolved into laughter as Artie waited. He finally put the sword down and rose to his feet. He walked out on his hobbling gait to the cannon facing the opposing ship. He leaned over to look down the cannon, "you want the holes to be at the water line. Then the sea will do the work for you and take the ship to Davy Jones' locker." He squeezed the sailor's shoulder, "lower the muzzle as far as you can without hitting our ship. Push the ole girl right to the edge of that opening." He stepped back to stand by Artemus. "After a few good shots at the waterline, I'd take their masts."

Artie nodded, listening closely. "Tuffy, why don't you stay down here. I'll go on deck with the swords. You'll do more good down here."

Tuffy smiled, winking up at him, "and miss all the fun? If a good fight breaks out, there should be enough work for both of us. Besides I haven't had a chance to work with my Bessie for a long while now." He grinned, tapping the handle of a small double-bladed ax stuck through a twisted scarf tied around his waist. "Oh, me and Bessie can do a lot of quiet work on the deck, if you know what I mean." He cackled as he walked back to his nest of swords behind the steps.

Artie shook his head, looking down at the long curved blade, "Aunt Maud, if you can lend a hand today, I would be forever grateful," he muttered to himself.

[

]

Jim walked a few more steps, trying to appear casual, as he approached the two men near the railing. He rubbed at the railing's wooden surface with a rag, endlessly polishing and cleaning off whale grease. He stole a glance up at the crow's nest to see Blaine leaning over watching down at him. Good place for him, he thought to himself, wondering absently when he had climbed up there. His eyes moved across the deck. Sailors were trying to keep busy cutting up the whale blubber as others stood near the cook pot. All hands made sure to stay near the upper deck by the Captain's quarters since word had spread to be ready for a fight. Jim half turned to look once more at the ship floating nearby. Men were everywhere on that deck also, appearing to work but not accomplishing anything. Others climbed the ropes on the slack sails, moving up and down the masts. The sails stayed the same and the ropes slack, but the men continued to swarm. A shiver ran up Jim's spine as he thought about his friends trying to fight hand to hand against pirates. Would they have guns, he wondered to himself. He moved another step closer to the two men, trying to look closely at their baggy clothes without appearing to look at them.

"That's close enough, friend," the older man snarled quietly. His dark eyes glared into Jim's. "Back away."

"I'll go where I want on my own ship," Jim snapped. He rubbed the railing more vigorously, kneeling down to rub on the cross beams of wood. "Why don't you wait on your own ship for your Captain? You aren't needed here."

The man turned to face Jim, hands on his hips, "you better watch what you say. You're speaking to a sailor in the Navy!" He friend, leaning against the railing behind him, snickered.

Jim straightened while still quickly examining the man's clothing for weapons. His comments had distracted the man, as he had planned, and he leaned closer. "I didn't notice a rank on your," he paused, making an obvious look up and down the man's wrinkled and filthy outfit, "uniform. What rank did you say you were in the service?"

The man opened his mouth, but thought the better of it. He turned to speak to his associate as the group of men emerged from the doorway to the Captain's quarters. The two sailors moved quickly out into the dimming light as Stone stormed out next, followed by the Navy officer. Jim's own Captain followed more sedately, with Rowdy at his heels. The young man was busy scribbling notes into the ledger book with a pencil, his head bent over the page.

"Now, sir," the Captain was saying, holding one hand out, "I am sure we can come to some sort of agreement. I have never head of the Navy taking a tax nor of absconding with processed oil during a voyage. If oil is needed on your frigate, it should be purchased…"

The Navy officer stopped and quickly turned, pulling out a handgun with a cluster of odd looking barrels. A loud explosion was heard as flame and smoke erupted from the gun. The Captain cried out and fell backward, knocking into Rowdy. The two fell like tenpins onto the deck. Rowdy's head made a dull, echoing thud as he was crushed under the larger man. Both lay still as madness erupted.

Jim jumped at the man nearest to him, the one he had so recently antagonized. He grabbed him with his left hand and spun him around, punching him with his right. The man's body flew up and back, toppling over the railing. Jim immediately charged ahead, to the second man. Blinded by rage, he noticed, just as he reached his quarry, that the ship alongside has erupted in a flash of gunfire. He ducked down to the deck as a rain of bullets flew overhead. The man's body twisted in midair as multiple pieces of lead hit him. He crumpled to the deck not far from the Captain's boots.

Jumping back to his bare feet, Jim paused to survey the scene. The ship nearby had struck the American Navy pennet and was pulling up a black flag with a white skull. "Dammit," he swore, "I knew it!" He ducked down again as a man's feet flew past him as a pirate swung on a rope from the main mast. Another rope flew past him with a great three-pronged hook. The metal dug into the top of the railing, securing the two ships together. Jim grabbed at the metal hooks with his fingers but couldn't pry it loose.

"Let me! Let me!" Tuffy said, running up to Jim. The man was practically dancing with excitement. "Let me get that with ole Bessie!" He chopped his ax blade onto the wood, severing the thick rope with ease. The length fell loose into the water as the little old man hurried down the railing in search of more grappling hooks.

"JIM!" Artie's voice boomed out over the deck, cutting through the madness as clearly as if he were on a stage in New York. "Here!" He yelled again, catching Jim's eye. He tossed a long-handled straight sword toward his partner. Jim caught it midair and immediately brought the heavy grip down onto an attacker's head, felling the man. "Watch yourself," he yelled, and turned to fight more pirates as they swarmed onto the whaler.

Jim ducked sideways as a spiked ball of metal zipped past his nose. A man with blood spattering his face swung again, laughing as he moved. The metal ball was on a chain hooked to a long wooden handle. Jim ducked a second time and brought the long blade up into the man's gut. Blood gushed out onto the deck and covered Jim's legs and feet. He pulled the blade out and quickly stepped back as the man, twisting in pain, felt to the deck. The spiked ball fell and stuck into the wooden planks.

Jim paused to look straight up. Blaine was staring down at him. "STAY UP THERE!" Jim pointed at the young man, catching his eye. "Watch and tell me where the men hide!" Blaine nodded silently. Then he pointed down the deck. Jim sprinted in the direction indicated as more shots rang out. The deck was slippery with blood and the gun smoke made it difficult to see. The whalers, his friends, were all fighting with long swords or hand to hand with short knives. Tuffy zipped past his knees, shrieking with laughter, to hit attackers with his ax. Men fell, without ever seeing who had injured them.

Suddenly a loud explosion was heard and felt under Jim's feet. A roar of shot flew out toward the pirate ship, wiping out men on the opposite deck and knocking a mast over. Jim grinned, knowing Artie had a fully operational cannon crew on the deck below.

Jim slashed at an attacker who suddenly appeared in front of him, cutting the man across the chest. The man fell back to the railing, dropped his short sword, and leaped over the edge. Jim jumped forward to look down. The man was swimming back to his own ship. Jim took a deep breath as he realized many men were in the water, swarming back to their pirate ship.

Jim turned back to the deck of the whaler to survey the damage. Men were still fighting in small groups but the smoke had cleared. He squinted though the haze to see Artemus in a sword fight, blades parrying and blocking, with a tall pirate. Jim moved closer but was quickly mesmerized at how easily his partner handled the long, curved blade. The pirate parried but then pulled a short sword from his belt with his left hand. He stabbed at Artemus, but the blade missed its mark. Artie quickly drew his sword across his opponent's midsection and the man screamed and crumpled to the deck.

Jim released a lung full of air he didn't realize he was holding as he moved to Artie's side. "Damn, partner," he breathed, suddenly weak with exhaustion. "I was worried for a minute but you know how to use that sword after all."

Artie grimaced, wiping blood from his face. He nodded to Jim, looking his friend up and down, "any of that blood yours?" He put the point of his long sword onto the wooden deck and leaned on the large, brass basket handle.

Jim shook his head. "You?" He grinned, "Do I look as bad as you?" Arite looked down at himself and grimaced again and nodded. "We should jump in the ocean to clean off but I think we would attract the sharks."

Artie snorted. His eyes traveled across the deck to survey the damage. Many of their crewmen were sitting, holding bleeding faces or appendages. Tuffy was moving from man to man, examining many. "Look," he breathed, nodding to the pirate ship. The sails were tightened now and a gust of wind pulled this ship away. "Guess we weren't as easy prey as they thought. How's the Captain?"

"Damn," Jim said, suddenly remembering, "not good!" They turned and hurried across the blood covered planks to where the Captain still sprawled over Rowdy. Jim gently lifted the old man's shoulders as Artie pulled out the younger man. "How is he?"

Artie moved his hands over the boy's head, feeling blood on the back of his head. "His head is bleeding. I hope he's just knocked out. It really hasn't been that long." He watched as Jim pulled the old man's pea coat open and then his vest and shirt. "Shot? I thought these idiots didn't believe in guns."

"They believe in guns," Jim snarled, "they just don't believe in the workers having them. With our revolvers, we could have protected everyone but oh, no, we can't be trusted." His fingers probed gently, examining the wounds. "Gut shot with more than one lead. The pirate king had a hand-held blunderbuss or pepper box hand gun. Old but deadly. And with no doctor around, what the hell do we do now?"

"We'll get him to his bed and see what we can do," Artie said, "maybe we can get the bullets out and stop the bleeding, if he stays still." He moved to grab the man's feet as a woman's voice shrieked from below deck.

"ROSE!" Jim leaped to his feet and threw himself through the doorway and down the short stairs. "Rose!" He called out her name as he ran, Artie on his heels. They crashed into the heavy wooden door of the cabin as the woman screamed again from the other side. Backing up, both men rushed the door together, hitting it hard with their shoulders. The door frame broke and the heavy door swung in. Jim leaped forward, grabbing a man by the waist and pulling him off the woman. She fell from the davenport onto the carpeted floor, crying and holding her face in her hands. Artie immediately pulled a blanket off the cushions and wrapped her tightly, holding her against his chest.

"It's all right now," he said softly as Jim dragged the squirming pirate out to the hall. "Everything is alright now. We'll stay with you." Rose stopped crying as Jim stormed back into the room. She and Artie watched as he kicked a small door on the front of a cupboard. The door cracked as he kicked it again.

"This is where they are, right?" Jim snapped.

"Where what is," the woman asked feebly.

"Our guns," he snarled. "I am not living one more minute on this damn ship without my revolver!" He kicked savagely at the door with his heel and the wood splintered. He knelt down to pull the pieces away. He reached in and grabbed at the contents of the cupboard. He pulled out his black leather belt and holster. The ammunition was still in the belt loops but the holster was empty. He glared at the leather, his fingers rubbed at the edges, then tossed it aside. He reached in again and pulled out a brown leather holster and belt set, the "AG" tooled into the surface. The holster was also empty. He leaned closer, moving a hand inside, reaching into the far back. He suddenly stood, dropping Artie's holster onto his own and stepped back. He looked toward his partner as Artie stared down at the empty leather.

"Great," Artie muttered, "that's just great. Our guns are taken from us and now some idiot has them instead." He turned to look at Rose, "who knew they were in that cupboard. Who else had a key?"

"Mr. Stone has the other key," she whispered, "I don't even have one." Her eyes went to Jim, "where is my husband? The ship will be in Stone's control if he…if…"

"Oh, wait," Jim said, turning to run back out. Artie nodded to her and hurried after his partner. They soon returned with the Captain, carried by shoulder and feet. The settled him on the narrow bed on the far side of the room. Jim stepped back and let Rose sit next to her husband. "He was shot at close range. The bullets are still in him."

"I can take them out," Rose said, "if someone helps me. I have done it before." She stood and moved to another cupboard, quietly stepping over the pieces of wood and leather in the middle of the room. Jim sighed and threw the holster sets back in the cupboard and tossed the splinters of wood in also. "I'll go check on the crew, Artie. You help her, alright?" Artie nodded. "Maybe Rowdy is awake now. And I have no idea where Stone is." He turned to leave just as Stone appeared in the open doorway. Jim froze in mid step. Artie and Rose also froze, exchanging a worried look.

Stone's eyes glared into Jim's and then moved to look down at the unconscious Captain on the bed. Blood covered the older man's midsection. His eyes moved to Artie and then back to Jim. "I'm in charge now. This is my ship. What I say goes now." His voice was low and threatening. His right hand gripped a long blade, covered in blood. He raised it, shaking it at Jim to emphasize his words. Then he turned and was gone.

Jim turned to his partner. Artie swallowed hard and shook his head as Jim shrugged, "I'll go check on the crew," he whispered. "Stay here and try to block this door shut after I leave. Don't let Stone in here." He walked out and Artie shoved the door shut, kicking splinters of wood under the edge to jam it in place.

"Even if I can get the bullets out," Rose said, "he will still need a doctor. We should return to the shore to find a town. Do you think that Stone would agree to do that?"

Artie turned a worried look to her, "I have no idea what Stone will agree to. But let's help the Captain first. We need to save him so Stone is only the Captain temporarily. We don't want this situation to become permanent." He knelt next to Rose at the side of the bed. "What can I do?"

tbc


	14. Chapter 14 A Glimmer of Hope

Chapter 14. A Glimmer of Hope

]

Jim leaned his forearms heavily onto the table in the mess hall. He crossed his wrists and lowered his forehead. Sighing, he said quietly, "what is wrong with the ship?"

Rowdy sat across from him rubbing his face with his hands. "The rudder head is cracked. It's what the wheel is connected to the rudder with." He paused, struggling to explain how the parts worked. "It's part of the helm controller."

Jim picked his head up slowly, "anything else?" The tired blue eyes glared through his eyebrows.

"Well," Rowdy said, "there has to be a reason why it's cracked. Someone may have hit it with something? Or maybe the vibrations from the cannon fire?" He shook his head. "I don't even know when it happened. But if it breaks completely and we can't steer the ship…"

He was interrupted as Artemus walked into the empty room.

"What did I miss?" Artie said, as he dropped into a chair. He sat back, his face grey with exhaustion, and looked from Rowdy to Jim.

"Besides dinner?" Jim said. He nodded across the table to their young friend, "Rowdy was just telling me the rudder is broken. Or rudder head? And we could lose all steering control of the ship."

"That's nice," Artie whispered, as his eyes closed. Jim and Rowdy exchanged a worried look.

Jim gave his partner a light punch in the shoulder, "How's the Captain doing?"

"He's alive," Artie said, almost talking in his sleep. "We took three bullets out of him. They were small. Hopefully he will heal if he doesn't move; stays still and rests." He opened his eyes and looked around the room. "Where's Charley? Is he all right?" He started to get up but the young boy suddenly appeared in the mess, walking though the galley toward them. He held a tray lined with bowels in his hands. He carefully set the tray onto the table and turned to them.

"I cooked some more of the stew," he said, "I didn't know who I'd be feeding tonight, them or us. I'm glad it's all of us again." He turned to Artie, "I stayed hid all day until Blaine and Tuffy came and got me. They said everyone was all right and you all killed a bunch of ole pirates!"

Artie reached an arm around the boy's waist, hugging him, "we did kill a bunch of ole pirates. I think the Captain is the only person seriously injured."

"You were pretty good with that sword," Jim chuckled. "We'll have to practice more fencing." He turned to Rowdy, "we really should do some hand to hand training with the crew. It might come in handy in the next fight."

"The next fight," Rowdy snorted. "The next fight might be a mutiny." He shook his head slowly from side to side, his eyes worried. Jim and Artie exchanged a glance and waited for him to continue. Charley passed out the bowls of stew, ignoring the talk. "Stone is pushing everyone around now, saying he is the Captain. And he's got a bunch of the crew backing him up. We explained about the damage to the helm and how it could break at any minute. We have to get the ship fixed immediately, in a port somewhere. The nearest one we can find." He let out a long sigh, "but he just wants to ignore it. Said it may have been cracked months ago." He snorted, and began to spoon his is stew.

"What does he want to do," Artie asked quietly, "though I'm not sure I want the answer to my own question. Besides we're still processing the last whale."

Rowdy paused, with the spoon half way to his lips, and whispered, "Tortuga."

"What?" Artie said, leaning closer.

"Where?" Jim said, equally confused.

Rowdy looked at them both, "you must have heard of Tortuga. The port where pirates go for supplies and crew." The two agents just stared at him, "Stone wants to turn this ship into a pirate ship. For profit. And some of the crew want to join him! It's not steady pay and its thieving but the crews can get a lot of money. Just like the gang that just attacked us!"

"Oh for the love of God," Artie said slowly. Jim groaned and lowered his forehead back to his wrists. "What if the Captain recovers and wants to take his ship back? Would Stone…kill him for it?"

Rowdy shrugged, "Everyone thinks the Captain will die. If only," he sighed, shrugging again.

"If only what?" Artie asked, his forehead lined with worried wrinkles.

Rowdy slammed his hand on the table in a burst of rage, "if only the Captain had never hired Stone," HE shouted, "If only the Captain hadn't been injured. If only the Captain could miraculously rise from his bed and show the crew he was well again!"

Artie sat, frozen, with his mouth hanging open. Rowdy's outburst was so out of character that it had taken him by surprise. Jim picked his head up, grinning, to wink at Rowdy, "well, we can't help the first two but," he looked over at his partner, "Artie and I are very good at producing miracles. What do you say, partner? Want to make a miraculous rise from the dead?"

Artie looked at Jim and his face broke out into a wide smile. He laughed and slapped Jim's back. "James, my boy, that's the best idea you've had in months." Jim straightened and faced Rowdy. The young man watched them with a worried look. "Yes," Artie continued, "we can definitely make that last miracle happen."

Rowdy whispered, "what are you two talking about?"

Jim looked back at him, whispering in his low, deep voice, "we are talking about taking this ship back tonight and hopefully getting rid of Stone for good."

More crew members suddenly walked into the room, talking loudly about the fight. Charley hurried out with more bowls of stew. Jim and Artie nodded to many men as Rowdy got up to speak to others. The plans were put on hold as the crew celebrated the near take over by pirates and the filling of the vats of oil.

]

Later that day...

Jim stood in the midst of his fellow crew mates, shoulder to shoulder with dozens of men he had gotten to know over the past months. His partner was still at one shoulder and Blaine at the other, out of habit now, but the others were all his friends too. The soft breeze blew his hair as he looked at the faces, or backs of heads, of each man, wondering if they would stand with Stone or not. How many could he really count on? His blue eyes turned back to the First Mate, who was standing where Captain Turner normally stood on the upper decks. Stone glared down at the crew, barking out his words, as usual. Jim sighed, wondering how anyone could think of working for this blowhard.

"When the whale is done processing…" Stone pointed at the chunks of whale fat hanging over the black cauldrons on the fires, "we leave immediately for Tortuga! We will trade the oil for supplies and then the world is ours for the taking! The oil will sell for many times what the pittance anyone in New England would pay! No more taking orders from bankers in Boston! We will go where want and do what we want!" He shook his fists in the air in excitement as the men looked on.

Jim rolled his eyes, thinking a good crew does not start pillaging by being threatened or bribed, especially after just defending themselves against pirates only the day before.

"Who's with me?" Stone yelled out, waving his hands now over the crowd. The crew looked nervously at each other and at their feet, mostly staying silent.

"I don't think he has his audience yet," Artie whispered into Jim's ear.

Jim shook his head, "too many words, no details, fake hand waving."

"Pitiful," Artie grinned. "Such a waste. He'll give up soon and go back to his usual threats."

Stone stopped waving and pointed at the crew, moving his finger from man to man. "Whoever isn't with me will be against me! Will you be against me?" The men shifted their feet, clearly agitated, and a murmur started to rise. "Who will stop me? Or who would stand with me and become rich? And travel the world?"

"There he goes with the threats," Artie chuckled, "and empty promises."

"He isn't traveling anywhere," Jim growled under his breath. "Not after we're done."

Artie whispered back, "Should we pretend to be with him so he doesn't cause trouble?"

"No," Jim said, "he won't be around long enough. And I don't want to confuse the crew. We need to start plans immediately though. There isn't a lot of time left."

"Or whale left. Just the head, really," Artie said, nodding to the fires burning nearby. Men poked the coals with a long metal rod while keeping one eye on Stone.

Jim noticed Blaine watching him out of the corner of his eye. He grinned at the young man and wrapped his arm around the younger man's shoulder. "Don't worry, friend, just stick close. Things are going to be just fine now." Blaine smiled back and nodded, relief clear on his face. Jim nodded and grinned at a few other faces that turned to him. "Come on, you damned idiot," Jim said, nodding toward Stone, "shut the hell up. I got things to do," he said under his breath.

The crowd was more worried and confused by Stone's speech than excited. The First Mate finished with a, "You just remember who's in charge of this ship and tend to your work!" He gave a final shake of the fist to the men and stomped away.

The crew all released a breath at the same time and turned to face each other. Everyone started talking at the same time, arguing about what to do. Rowdy pushed his way to Jim and Artie.

"What are we going to do?" Rowdy said, his face dark with worry. "If Stone is in charge now…"

"He isn't," Jim said, quickly cutting him off. "We need to talk in the Captain's quarters." He watched the crew, scanning the faces. "Tuffy," he called out, nodding to the old man, "come here." The man hurried to his side, followed by a few of the other older men. "Look, I have a favor to ask. I need you, well all of you would even be better," he said, looking at the group of elderly sailors, "I need you to keep Stone busy for a while on the deck. Talk to him about the helm breaking more, or make up something else, but keep him out here on the deck and away from Captain Turner." The group all nodded, grinning, knowing something was being planned.

Jim turned to Artie, "I think the four of us will be enough. Anymore and there could be a leak."

Artie nodded and the four of them made their way below to the Captain's quarters. Jim knocked on the door and called out, "Rose, we need to come in." Metal clicked and the door creaked open.

The group moved in to find Rose returning to the old man's side. "How is he," Artie said softly, kneeling next to the bed. The old man's face was grey in the flickering candle light. The curtains had been pulled over the small windows and the room was mostly dark. Artie touched the man's wrist, feeling for a pulse. "His heart seems strong. Has he been awake at all?"

"Yes," Rose said softly. "I have been giving him weak tea and water. I would like to give him brandy but he would not be happy with me." She gave Artemus a weak smile. "What is happening now? Is Stone taking over the ship?"

"He thinks he is," Jim growled, prowling the room. He was quickly opening every drawer and cupboard and searching the contents. "I had another firearm; it was in leather straps attached to a metal rod. Sound familiar?" He looked over his shoulder at the woman but she shook her head. He growled and continued his search.

Rowdy was at the large, wooden desk searching through stacks of maps. He had the Captain's logbook open nearby and was checking the impeccable, cursive writing. "If I can find our location and what he had planned…"

Rose walked to the desk and opened a small, folded map. "He always used this one." She unfolded it onto the desktop and pointed, "This is near where we are. He said it was the best place to hunt whales."

Rowdy bent over the map and then unrolled one of the larger ones, comparing them. "We are not that far from land. It shouldn't take long to return to the coast." He looked up at Jim, "if we can get the helm to steer the ship there."

Jim knelt down to open another cupboard but found it locked. "Blaine, grab a blanket over there." Blaine hurried to the foot of the bed and picked up an extra blanket. He handed it to Jim. "I will try to do this quietly," he whispered, as he bunched the material into a ball. He shoved it against the door and punched it, hard, with his fist. The door bent in but the crack was muffled by the blanket. Another punch and the wood splintered silently. Jim moved the blanket and wooden pieces away and stuck his hand inside. His face broken into a broad smile as he pulled out his sleeve apparatus, complete with the Derringer still attached.

"We're in business, partner," Jim said softly to Artemus. "Can you do it?"

Artie looked at the older man in the bed and then up at the clothes hanging on hooks from the bed posts. "Of course," He looked back at Jim, "I can do anything, but it would be a lot easier after dark, if we can wait."

"Sounds perfect to me," Jim said. He pushed up his sleeve and pulled the straps up his arm. He checked the small hand gun and the metal slide. He caught Blaine's eye watching him.

"The firearm is the great equalizer, Blaine," Jim said softly. "For the weaker sex, the smaller person, the young, and the old. It takes the power away from the criminal and returns it to the target so they don't become a victim. It's a tool that can be used for good or bad. But if only the bad person has a firearm, it's very difficult to fight."

"And Stone has your guns?" Blaine said. "But this one looks much smaller."

"That's alright," Jim said, "I only need one bullet for him. And he will probably give up when he sees we can fight back. Most criminals do or they run." He pulled his sleeve down over the arm straps. "I usually hid it under a coat but I haven't found my clothes yet. They're here somewhere, I'm sure, but it would draw too much attention to wear them. But I can hide this well enough." He suddenly jerked up his right arm and the Derringer was in his hand. Blaine's eyes widened with surprise. "And I have the element of surprise."

Blaine nodded and they moved to the maps. Rowdy grinned up at him, "we can get back soon, I know it. When the stars come out tonight, we can use the sextant to find our exact location."

"Can you use that?" Artie walked to the desk to crowd around the maps. "That's good news then. I hope we get the chance tonight." He looked up at Jim, "we should take the maps we need and go elsewhere. Tuffy can't keep Stone busy forever. "

Jim nodded, "we shouldn't be here if he comes down." He looked at Rose as she returned to sit at her husband's bedside. "Will you be alright alone here?"

"Yes," she said quietly, "Stone won't bother with me. And I don't think he will do anything to an unconscious man." She shrugged, "he stands at the desk and looks at the maps, like you are. He won't even sit in the chair. He seems to know it's wrong."

"We'll be nearby," Jim said, "just call out if you need us. And we will be back after dark." He put a reassuring hand on her shoulder, "It's going to be fine now." The woman nodded.

]

That night...

The crew was again standing shoulder to shoulder on the deck in the fading light. The last of the whale was cooking down to the final drops of oil over the glowing coals nearby. The ship rocked on gently rolling waves as the men waited. Jim stood with Blaine and Tuffy. Both knew something was going to happen but had no idea what. Artemus was oddly not there.

Stone, with Rowdy next to him, stood on the upper deck near the doorway that led to the Captain's quarters. Charley stood slightly behind them with his ledger book open and a short quill in his hand. Stone shook a fist at the men and then, quickly charging his mind, opened the hand and tried a friendly wave. The gesture was more not any more reassuring to the men.

"Tonight is an important occurrence to this ship," Stone bellowed out. "Tonight we will see the changing of the old to the new. The whaling is done, it is time to join many others in collecting real wealth that is a part of the seafaring life." He paused as the men shifted their feet and murmured under their breath.

Stone slapped a hand on Rowdy's shoulder, "Young Rowdy is now going to be the First Mate of the Anguish." He looked toward Charley, "are you writing this, boy?" Charley nodded and quickly began to scribble, tilting the book toward a lantern. Stone looked back to the crew and took a deep breath. "And I will be the new Captain!" He stopped, raising both hands out to the men, his face expectant. Not a sound was heard except for the creak of wood and flap of the sails. "Hearing no complaints," he snarled, turning to Charley, "write my name in the book!"

"Where is Captain Turner?" Tuffy yelled out. He winked at Jim, grinning. "I ain't heard he's dead," he shouted again. Jim grinned, winking back at the old man.

Stone's head snapped around and peered at the men, "Who said that?"

"Who cares who said it," another man said, deeper in the crowd.. "Where's Turner?!"

Stone looked around, trying to see who spoke. He finally gave up and stood straight again, "Captain Turner has been gravely injured and is not expected to survive. He may be dead already. I haven't checked for fear of disturbing his wife." And paused, looking at the doorway, checking nervously. He turned back around, "but since the last whale has been cooked and the oil stored, or will be by morning, there is no reason to tally in these waters. We will take readings tonight from the stars and take our heading for Tortuga. We leave at dawn!"

"I want to see Turner!" A voice yelled out in the dark. Another, farther down the deck, "Me too! You ain't the Captain yet!"

Jim chuckled, nodding to Tuffy, "you old guys like to keep him stirred up. Let's get some others to join in." He stepped behind a tall man and yelled out from the darkness, "I don't think Turner is dead!" He grinned as Stone's face turned in his direction but the First Mate clearly had no idea who yelled. "Keep it up, I'll walk around."

Jim moved behind Blaine as the younger man yelled out too. The crew was becoming agitated, most yelling for Turner while a few men, friends of Stone's were yelling that he should be the captain. Stone yelled back, shaking his fists at the crew. "I tell you Turner is dead! Or will be soon! I am taking this ship! We will all be rich!"

"I want to go to Nantucket," a voice yelled from the darkness. "I want to go to Boston," another voice said. "Only pirates are in Tortuga!"

Jim's back touched the wall of the cabin's outer wall. He slid sideways, approaching the doorway to Turner's cabin. Stone was in front of him on the upper deck, Rowdy and Charley had backed away. Rowdy new something was planned but wasn't sure what. Charley, of course, had no idea. The boy's frightened face was white in the flickering lantern light.

Suddenly a dark, tall shadow moved out from the doorway. The outline of the peacoat, square shoulders and long dark cloth, moved slowly. The tall top hat made the dark figure even taller in the dim light. A hand went to the railing, as if for balance. The deep voice boomed out, weak but loud, over the crowd. "The reports of my death have been greatly exaggerated." A hush fell over the crew. Stone turned and backed a few steps away.

The crew erupted with a chorus of "Captain Turner!" Many men waved and clapped in obvious joy and relief at the sudden appearance of their captain.

"No," Stone said, pointing a shaking hand. "NO!"

"Mr. Stone," Captain Turner's deep, clear voice resonated into the night, seemingly to swirl in the wind between the sails. "You are presumptuous in thinking you can take this ship to any port except where she is licensed to sail. This ship is owned by good men of Boston and will return to that port with the shipment of oil." A long hand waved out over the crew, "And these good men will not go to the cesspool known as Tortuga to join pirates! We are American citizens. We fight for what is right! Not join in what is wrong!" He turned to glare out at Stone, the lantern's light flickering shadows across the face, partially hidden by the brim of the hat. "I say it again! My men are not pirates! They are Americans!"

The crew broke into cheers and applause. Many shouted at Stone, who was backing farther away, looking from side to side, as if hoping for a place to run.

Jim grinned, watching the show as if in the theater. He had a flashback of seeing Artemus, before they had met, when he was in a play impersonating President Grant. How many years had it been when he had first seen him working on a stage? He shook his head, enthralled, as usual, by his best friend's ease at suddenly becoming a completely different person. The darkness was helping but it was his partner's voice and perfect animations that was convincing the crowd. Suddenly his eyes caught a flash of metal as Stone moved; the first mate was bringing his right arm up to point at what he thought was Turner.

"NO!" Jim screamed, leaping forward, his own right arm snapping up. The Derringer slid into his hand and his finger pulled the trigger a split second after Stone fired his gun.

Artemus, dressed in Turner's clothes, crumpled to the deck, as did Stone a few feet away. Jim ran to his friend as Rowdy ran to Stone. Men raced onto the upper deck, not knowing which downed man to run first.

"No, God, not now, not after all this time," Jim gasped, kneeling at his friend's side. "Don't you dare be dead!" He leaned over to check for a wound. Blood was on the shirt inside the thick coat. He wrapped his arms around Artie and drew his friend's head and shoulders to his chest. The movement made Artie gasp in pain. Jim breathed a sigh of relief, though still sick with worry. Rowdy was at his side suddenly. "Tell the crew I am taking Turner back to his quarters. Then join me there. He's shot but alive." Jim slid another hand under Artie's knees and lifted him. He quickly moved through the doorway to the captain's quarters.

Rowdy turned and shouted to the crew, "Stone has shot Captain Turner! He's alive! Everyone stay close. I will let you know how he is." As the crew yelled in anger, some men actually kicking Stone's body, he turned to see Charley nearby, "Come on and help." They hurried down the steps, followed by Blaine. "I hope they throw Stone's body overboard to the sharks," Rowdy snarled as they entered the room.

Artie was laid out on the long couch and Jim was slowly pulling off the peacoat. He was sitting up slightly, propped up on a pillow, grimacing as Jim finished removing the stiff cloth. Rose, who was ripping cloth into strips turned to the young men as they entered, "he's all right. It's just a shoulder wound." Charley moved silently to the end of the couch, staring at Artemus and the bloody shoulder. His eyes were wide with terror but Artie nodded to him, reassuring him.

"Just trying to make it look more dramatic than it needed to be," Jim snarled, "as usual. It's not like the crew needed one more reason to hate Stone." He stuffed another pillow behind Artie's head. "How you feeling?"

"Not too bad," Artie hissed, wincing as he moved. "I'm all right," he said again, trying to keep on eye on Charley too.

"Good," Jim said, grinning, "because now I have to dig a bullet out of your shoulder. We should have thought of some kind of a vest for you to wear. Bastard probably shot you with your own pistol too."

"No, it was yours," Artie sighed, "I could see it in the light. I tried to duck sideways."

"Well, my gun shoots to the left so good he used it and almost missed you," Jim said, moving as Rose approached. "Rose, can dig the bullet out? I really hate doing it."

"Ya, me too," Artie whispered. "Maybe you can find me an old shoe to bite on."

Rose smiled and held a comforting hand on Artie's wrist, "please, you will be fine. You can drink some brandy and bite on something cleaner than a shoe. Your friend here can wait nearby before he faints." She winked up at Jim. "The bottle is on the desk. I think you both could use some."

"I'll save it for the patient," Jim said. He moved to the desk and grabbed the bottle. Rowdy was already pouring over the maps. Blaine was trying to watch him but seemed more curious about the bloody bullet wound.

"You killed Stone with one shot," Blaine whispered to Jim. "But Artie is going to be alright? But you had such a small gun."

"I'm a better shot," Jim said, "luckily. Does everyone think it was Turner that was shot?"

"Yes, and they are kicking Stone. But he's dead so he don't care." Blaine said. He followed Jim back to the couch and stood next to Charley. "Mind if I watch?"

"No, of course not," Artie hissed. "Sell tickets, place bets." He took the bottle in his left hand, with Jim guiding him, and drank a few deep gulps. "Sure the bullet didn't go through?" Jim shook his head. "Damn. All right, guess we better get this done with." He handed the bottle back to Jim and took a waded up scarf from Rose. He took a deep breath and put the cloth in his teeth.

Jim put a hand on his partner's shoulder, "don't squirm." He kept his eyes on his friend's face and away from the blood as Rose started to work.

]

tbc


	15. Chapter 15 The Long Journey Home

Chapter – A Long Journey Home

}

The night after Stone's death and Captain Turner's injury...

}

"It measures the angle of where we are to the North star," the younger man said, "And then you measure again from the star to the horizon." He stepped back to take the log book from Blaine and tilt it to a lantern hung on the nearby mast. "Then the math calculations will equal where we are by longitude and latitude." He scratched at the page with a numb end of a pencil. "And we will set the helm direction toward the closest land."

"The closest land," Artie said from the shadows, "That sounds wonderful."

"Hey, partner," Jim said, lowering his hands and turning. "How are you feeling? You sure you should be walking around?" He looked his friend over with a critical eye as Artemus approached slowly. "Who made you the sling," he asked, nodding toward the black cloth wrapped around Artie's right arm.

Artie tapped his left hand onto his right, "Charley did. I felt like taking a walk so I went down to see how he was doing. Cooking up a storm," he said, grinning, "but he stopped long enough to make me a sling. That boy is doing a great job now."

"You sure have taught him a lot," Rowdy said, looking at them, "you both have. I don't know how we'll run this ship without you two." Blaine stood behind Rowdy with his eyes down, rubbing at the end of his nose. "I sure would love if you stayed on board but I know you can't." He voice petered out slowly.

Jim grinned and gave Rowdy a light tap on the shoulder, "you don't need us now. You're the First Mate and ole Turner will pull through. Everyone on this ship is back to doing what they were doing before that idiot Stone came on board. I'm sure Turner will keep you on without making any changes."

Rowdy nodded and looked behind him. Tuffy was at the helm with a few older men standing around. A few others were sitting nearby on some crates doing some carving, "nice to have the knives back. The men like to carve bits of wood into figurines and do the scrimshaw to sell at ports. And it relaxes them."

"Need to keep the weapons handy and in good repair," Artie said, "including the cannon. Keep everyone trained now." He stepped forward, looking at the tool in Jim's hand. "Hey, is that the Sextant? Could I…?"

"It's pretty complicated," Jim said, holding it up to his friend, "Rowdy will have to explain…"

"I know the theory," Artie said, taking it in his good hand, "I just haven't ever seen one. Now how do I work this?" He tipped it toward the light to look at the measurements carved into the arches.

Jim sighed, forgetting how his partner seemed to know everything, "well it takes two hands to run the thing." He watched as Artie held it up to his eyes. "Ok, you look through that part at the North star. Then you turn the gauge." He reached up to move the dials. "Then lower it to take the reading."

Artie lowered the tool to tilt the gauge markings toward the lantern again as Rowdy stepped forward to explain the math. Jim stepped back and looked across the ship's decks at the crew. The men worked quietly while others relaxed on the deck. Everyone was quiet and peaceful, so different from the ship he had known for the past three months. Or was it four now, he wondered. He looked up the mast to see the sails flap in the breeze, even the cloth seemingly relaxed and peaceful in the evening breeze.

"Jim" Artie said, behind him, "Rowdy thinks we will be on land by tomorrow night. Isn't that incredible? To walk on land again," he laughed, grinning, "I'll have to polish my boots and…" he looked down at Jim's feet. "Hey, I thought you had your boots on in the Captain's quarters. You were so excited when you found them that you pulled them right on."

Jim grinned, looking down at his feet. He wiggled his toes and looked back at his partner, "I had them on for a while but damned if my feet didn't get sore. And I kept slipping on the deck. So I took them off." He shrugged, "I think it will take me a while to get used to wearing them again."

"You'll need them once we are walking on the hard old Earth again," Artie said, "I wonder where we'll land. Probably some fishing bay near Nova Scotia."

Blaine walked to them, "I think I'll stay on board," he said, "I really like it here. Much better than anything I had in any towns. Food, good people, everyone wants me to learn."

"Good," Jim said, wrapping an arm around the young man's shoulder, "you'll do well here. I was hoping you'd stay. And you should learn everything you can," he said. He looked at Artie, "we should have been showing them how to fight and how to read and write. So much more we could have done," he said, shaking his head at Artie.

"We were a little busy staying out of Stone's way," Artie said, winking at Jim. "Should we sign up for a few more months?"

"No," Jim laughed. He smacked Blaine on the back, "but we can do more tomorrow. At least some hand to hand fighting moves so the next ship of idiots that bother you can be dealt with." He looked back at Rowdy, "you and the Captain, and a few others, really should have some firearms. I will try to speak to Captain Turner tomorrow before we land."

"Yes, "Rowdy said, "I agree. Maybe we can procure a few before we sail again. Hopefully we can find a ship building town nearby to fix the helm and a doctor for the Captain. Then we can sell the oil we have and get back out to sea." He grinned, "you two will stay around to get paid for the oil, won't you?"

Jim and Artie both laughed, shaking their heads no. "Split our part with the crew," Jim said, "Artie is just as happy with the new knowledge he has of whaling and oil processing."

"I'll never waste lamp oil again in my entire life," Artie said.

}

The next day…

}

Rowdy leaned farther out over the railing, waving at the men in the large rowboat. Fishing nets dragged on both sides and a stack on wooden crates were in the point. "Ahoy," Rowdy yelled down. The men waved back and moved the boat closer to the hull of the ship. "Ahoy. Can you hear me?"

"Yes, we can hear ya, mister," a man said. "what ship is this?"

"The Anguish," Rowdy yelled down. "What is that shore? Is there a town?"

"That's Cape Breton," the man yelled up, hooking a thumb over his shoulder toward the distant hills. "It's an island off Canada. Where did you think you was?" The men on the smaller boat laughed and pointed at the ship's crew. "Maybe they thought they was in Boston."

Rowdy looked at Jim and Artie, who stood nearby. "I don't care where we are, we just need to go into a bay. A good deep one." He looked down at the men again, "is there a deep bay where we can come in at? I need a shipwright. And a doctor too."

"I like how he asked for the doctor second," Artie whispered to Jim, grinning. The crew was lined up along the railing or hanging from the ship's masts. Everyone was silent, letting Rowdy do the talking. Jim nodded back, snickering, then paused as the conversation continued.

"Oh, mate," the fisherman said, "you can float this ship of yours right up to the docks. We are a fishing town and have bigger ships than yours stopping in." The man turned to the other men in his boat, "we'll lead them in and see what they need." He looked back to Rowdy, "Follow us!"

Rowdy waved in acknowledgement, and turned to Tuffy. "We need to follow these men in their fishing boat. Watch for my signals. We will let them get a bit ahead of us first. Keep an eye out for ledges under the water's surface." The older men all crowded around the railing and began pointing out directions as Tuffy slowly turned the great wooden wheel.

The horizon approached slowly all afternoon. The sun was getting low in the sky when the ship approached the coast. Tuffy slowly maneuvered the ship toward a cluster of docks, guiding the point down the narrow spaces between the wooden decks. Men scurried along the decks, holding heavy ropes at the ready. The fishing boat docked easily and men waved to the ship, pointing to where it should stop. Ropes were tossed to the railing as other men attached heavy ropes to the metal hooks, holding the ship fast.

Rowdy leaned over, looking down the hull, watching the worker closely. He waved toward them, nodding his acceptance of the work. He turned to Tuffy, "have the anchor dropped, just in case the wind comes up. Hate to have the ship blow onto shore when we aren't looking." Men scurried around the ship's decks to drop the anchor. Metal clanged and a huge splash was heard.

"Well, that does it, I guess," Artie said, slapping Jim lightly on the shoulder. "As long as I don't break my neck climbing down, I should be all set. Ready for a night on the town?"

Jim glared at him, though his dimples gave the glare a humorous edge, "ya, try not to have any more injuries, will ya?" He rapped his knuckles of his right hand into Artie's gut, noting again how his partner's soft middle had turned to muscles of iron. "Dinner is on me tonight!" He turned to Rowdy, "well First Mate, what's next?"

"I was going to go to shore and send for a doctor," Rowdy said, "I'm not sure if we need to move Captain Turner. His quarters are probably more comfortable than any boarding house room." He looked toward the crew who gathered on the lower deck. "You are already assigned to groups. The first group can go to shore, as planned, while the second stays to guard the ship and the Captain. Then we will switch in four hours. Agreed? If the first group is late getting back, the other men will be very upset with you." The crew nodded in unison, as the men teased and jeered each other. Rowdy's easy-going method of decision making, along with asking for the crew's opinion, was working well with the men. He stepped back out of the way as the men surged over the railing to climb down the rope mesh to the decks. He turned Jim, "I suppose you two want to take off right away. I don't blame you for…"

"I think we will stay the night and make our plans," Jim said, "we need to see where we are, what's available for travel." He looked out over the town, noticing only a few buildings of any size. "Not sure if they have a hotel but they must have a boarding house with a place to eat. We wanted to buy you supper tonight. Take Blaine and Charley out on the town."

"It's not New York City," Artie chuckled, "but it's got to have some excitement."

Blaine walked over, hearing his name. "Are you all going to the town? You don't mind me following along, do you?"

"Of course not," Jim said, "we wouldn't leave without you." He tugged at his blue coat and shifted his feet in his leather boots. "But I am going to have to get used to wearing all these clothes and boots again. I probably won't be able to walk across the ground."

"A floor that doesn't move constantly," Artie said, nodding his agreement. His tall boots had been a trick to pull on with only one hand working. "And these clothes do feel odd. But it will come back to us quickly." He looked at Blaine, "do you want to go get Charley? Don't let him stay behind, cooking, the men can feed themselves tonight. And Rose already has supper for herself and the Captain." Blaine turned to hurry toward the doorway that led to the galley.

"We're leaving our guns in the Captain's quarters for tonight," Jim said to Rowdy. "Except my sleeve gun, which I'm sure I won't need anyway." He tapped his right arm, "just hate to be without it. We'll collect everything tomorrow and make sure you're all set before we leave."

"Do you need money," Rowdy asked. "I was going to trade some oil for the work on the ship but we could sell some. The men may need some cash to pay for rum."

"We have money,' Artie said, "our wallets were empty, of course, but we always keep money hidden in our clothes. It was all still there."

Rowdy's eyes went to the brown and tan leather jacket Artie wore and then to the shorter, blue jacket that Jim wore. He opened his mouth to ask a question but Blaine returned with a very excited Charley.

"I aint' never been to a place that serves food," Charley gushed. "I wonder if they would let me in the kitchen to see how they cook it."

"Oh, no," Rowdy said sternly, winking at Artie. "If you go into some fancy kitchen, you won't want to come back on the ship to work in the galley."

"Oh, yes, I would," Charley protested, "I was just looking for ideas. Mr. Artie says to never stop learning. And I won't, neither," he announced, grabbing Artie's elbow. "and Rowdy said he would continue my reading and writing lessons too."

"Good," Artie said, "You do well with the ledger but reading books is the best way to learn. I expect you to help the other men to learn to. Share the knowledge."

"You could teach me, Charley," Blaine said, "I ain't never had that book learning. I know my letters and can write my name. That's more than most do where I come from."

"We can practice writing out recipes," Charley said. "Are we going now?"

Artie and Jim exchanged a glance, grinning to each other. "Partner? No head hunters and no cutting sugar cane on this island."

Jim laughed, "no scantily clad island girls either but I just want a good dinner." He nodded toward, Charley, "not that I haven't been fed well lately since you took over from this guy," he said, smacking Artie lighting in the gut again.

"Hey," Artie said, giving Jim a shove, "just help me over the side and down those damned ropes." The group slowly climbed over the railing and carefully helped Artie climb down. Artie stood on the deck, stomping a foot. "Land! Just think of all we've been through to get here."

"I feel like kissing the ground," Jim said quietly. "Not that we haven't been on the ground occasionally, it's just being in a safe location without Stone yelling at me is such a change."

"Stone is feeding the sharks tonight," Artie said, thinking of seeing the body floating on the ocean waves before the sharks took it down. "But no negative thoughts tonight. Back to living! Lead on, James, my boy," he wrapped an arm around Charley and followed Jim and Rowdy down the street. Blaine walked next to him as the group made their way through town.

Jim noticed a large sign down the street, squinting at the words. "I think that's a doctor's office, Rowdy. Are you going to lead him back to the ship or just ask him to stop by?"

Rowdy shook his head as they walked. "I already spoke to Tuffy. He will be brought on board and down to Captain Turner. And Rose is there too so I don't think I am needed." He grinned at Jim and turned to look back at Artie, "besides I didn't want to miss our party. I haven't eaten a meal in a restaurant in ages." The group stopped at the steps of the doctor's office and waited as Rowdy hurried inside.

"So how do you eat at this res…"Blaine started to ask, his tongue tripping on the word. "Well, anyway, is there a lot of food? Can you eat whatever you want?"

"Restaurant," Artie said slowly, as Jim grinned. "It depends on the place. Sometimes there are only a few things to choose from like lamb or beef. This town being a fishing village will probably have a lot of fish. And everyone always has chicken." Blaine and Charley leaned in, listening closely. "And then there are restaurants that are certain ethnic groups, like Italian, would serve Italian food. This appears to be either French or British." He looked at Charley, "even the seasoning you use comes from certain areas of the country or islands that you stop at. I bet you have used dried plants that these people have never seen."

"Wow," Charley said slowly. "I never thought about that. I might know more than they do?"

"Well, we don't want to seem presumptuous," Artie laughed, squeezing the boy's shoulder, "let's say you might know different things. But you will enjoy learning about new foods tonight. We will try to order a good variety and share it so you can taste a lot of different foods."

"Unless they just serve fish soup," Jim grinned. "But, even then, its bound to be different than what we've been eating. I hope."

Rowdy burst out of the front door and dropped down the steps, "ok, the doctor is all set. I told him about the injury and the operation Rose did, and the bandages. But Rose will explain it better than I can anyway. So he is heading over. I told him we would stop back later to ask him how it went."

"Good plan," Jim said, "because you," he pointed at his partner's sling and looking him in the eye, "need to have the doctor look at that shoulder. You were shot too, if you've forgotten."

"Oh, now," Artie started to protest, his left hand instinctively going to his right shoulder, "I don't think that's necessary. My shoulder barely hurts and…"

"You said it hurt just this morning," Charley squawked. "You said you would see the doctor when we got to town." Artie shrugged, giving up, as his friends all burst out laughing.

"You're lucky I'm letting you eat first," Jim said, "Come on. Let's see what's here." He turned and led the group further down the street. He enjoyed stopping to let Blaine and Charley look into store windows and examine good piled on the sidewalk. Soon they came to a large building marked "ROOMS BATHS FOOD".

"That says it all," Artie said, "but which order do we need first."

"Food for now," Jim said. He climbed up the steps to the front door and walked inside, waiting a few steps in as the group pushed in behind him. Most of the tables were empty and he wondered if the place was open. "I smell food so someone's cooking. And I smell meat too. I am so tired of fish," he groaned. He took a step toward a large table and a young woman wearing an apron came out through swinging doors.

"Good evening," she said, in a cheery voice. Her dark hair was tied back in a ribbon and she wore a dark red dress covered with a clean white apron. "Please sit where ever you like." She stood, waiting, as the group dropped into chairs. "You have come at a good time. The men that work the fishing boats have already come and gone and the stores haven't closed you so those workers are still in their shops." She smiled at each man but paused when she noticed Jim. Her left hand fluttered to her hair as her right fumbled for a pencil in the apron's pocket. Clearing her throat, she continued, "tonight we have fish stew and fish chowder," she paused as the group laughed and groaned, exchanging smiles. "Tired of fish, are we?" The men nodded as she smiled.

"Anything but fish," Jim said, his blue eyes flashing, "I know I smell beef cooking."

"Yes," she giggled, "we have beef stew and roasts that we carve. Also, we have baked potatoes, and lots of fresh vegetables from the surrounding farms."

"Miss," Artie said, "why don't you bring some of everything, even the fish. We want to try it all. Right, Charley?" He grinned at the boy who nodded quickly. "And a pitcher of clear, cold water would be great too."

"Water?" Jim said, sitting up to look at his friend. He looked up at the girl, "and a pitcher of beer, if you have it?" The girl nodded quickly as he flashed a dazzling smile to her, his teeth looking even whiter than usual against his deeply tanned skin. "And I am forgetting my manners," he said smoothly. "My name is Jim. I didn't catch yours?"

"My name?" The girl stammered, "oh, my name…yes, my name is Ellen." She smiled again as each of the gang introduced themselves, ending with Charely, as his cheeks blushed pink. "Well thank you all for coming. I will bring the drinks out first and then the food." The girl spun and hurried away, dashing through the swinging doors.

"Shouldn't we help her?" Blaine asked, starting to get up out of his chair.

Jim shook his head, "no, as odd as it seems, we just sit here." He laughed as Artie nodded, mock seriousness on his face, "Normally we would hold a door for a young lady and carry everything ourselves but she works here and we are customers. It actually gets confusing if customers help. So we are better just sitting still." He looked at Artemus, "though there have been times when we make friends quickly with the waitresses and cooks and end up helping in the kitchen."

"It's been done," Artie nodded, grinning. "We've also been thrown out of kitchens for making friends with the waitresses and cooks." He and Jim burst out laughing as the others looked on.

Ellen burst through the doors again, carrying a pitcher of water and a pitcher of beer. She placed them carefully on the table and then hurried to a cupboard for glasses. She brought those to the table and the men spread them around. Silverware was pulled from the deep pockets of the apron and a stack of cloth napkins appeared too. Without a word, and obviously avoiding Jim's blue eyes, she spun again and hurried back to the kitchen.

"I'll take two glasses," Artie said, "I want water and beer."

"Water," Jim said, shaking his head, "all I've had is water. And a drop or two of rum." He filled his glass to the rim with beer and slid the pitcher to Rowdy. It was quickly emptied, even Charley having a half glass. The water pitcher was also emptied as Ellen reappeared, this time with a tray of bowls.

Charley's eyes watched her closely as she set the tray down and began handing out the bowls. He pulled a bowl over and stirred it with his spoon. Bits of fish and vegetables floated. "This looks like my soup," he said. He tasted it carefully, "needs salt," he announced, sounding like a connoisseur. Artie winked at him as he continued, "And I like my seasoning better. But it's still good," he said, nodding, as he quickly emptied his bowl.

The bowls were emptied and stacked just as Ellen arrived with another tray, also covered with bowls. "You said some of everything so I brought the beef stew." She handed out the full bowls and took the empty ones back, again, quickly disappearing.

Charley carefully tasted the stew, as the men watched, clearly amused. Charley nodded, "it's good. I like it. What is this meat?" He held a spoon up with a piece of dark meat.

Jim paused, looking into his bowl, "I assumed it was beef, as in a steer or a cow," he paused, "but I guess it could be horse or mule." He looked at Artie, waving his spoon. "No one had better have eaten my horse while I was gone, either."

Artie spit stew into his napkin as he tried not to laugh. "Glue factory," he managed to say, repeating their old joke, as the others paused to stare at them again. "Horse is too mean to eat, meat would be all gristle."

Ellen came out again, with another young girl behind her, both ladies carrying trays of food. Platters of sliced beef and bowels of vegetables were filled on both trays. The second girl had stacks of plates. The dishes and food were spread out as the men shared the meal. Jim paused to say thank you to Ellen and started to ask the other girl's name. "Belle," the second girl squeaked out as both girls hurried away. Just as they passed through the doors, they squealed with laughter. Jim shook his head and started to eat his dinner.

"Well, Charley," Artie asked, "what of you think of this meal?" The boy just nodded as he stuffed a large piece of meat into his mouth. "Beef, there's nothing like it!" Artie grinned at Jim as he stabbed the last slab off meat the serving plate. "Here ya go, partner," he said, pushing the bowl of boiled carrots closer to Jim.

Jim snorted, "those two giggling girls will be back soon. I've been timing them. Every five minutes that reappear with more food." He watched the clock on the far wall and waited. "I am going to sit here all night and eat until I can't move."

"And then what?" Rowdy said, "you can't sleep at the table."

Jim sighed, "then I'll have to walk it off. And make sure this one," he said, glaring at Artie as his partner waved a large piece of beef at him, "goes to the doctors. Then we can get rooms and sleep here in a real bed."

"I want to soak in a hot bath," Artie said, "I might even sleep in the bathtub tonight."

Rowdy snorted, "well I'll have to get back to the ship tonight." He looked down at this plate, sadness overwhelming him. "You two will come back and get your things? We may be here for a few days if someone can fix the ship. If not, we'll go to Portsmouth or Boston. It might be faster to get back to your home than by…" he paused, "where are you going and how are you getting back?"

Jim and Artie exchanged a glance, "train," Jim said. "We may have to take a stage to a larger town but then we should be able to jump on a train. Shouldn't take too many days."

"Do you have money enough?" Rowdy asked. "I just don't want to leave you behind and have you stranded. You might have to work on another ship to earn money and passage."

"Oh, no," Artie said, "no way. I'd walk first. But we will figure that all out tomorrow. Ships, trains, and stagecoaches." He looked at Jim, "and telegraph. We should send a message immediately to Colonel Richmond."

"We may need to get to a larger town to send one," Jim said, "but, agreed. As soon as possible." He paused as the two girls came out carrying more trays and bowls of food. "Right on schedule," he grinned, his eyes torn between the pretty girls and the platters of meat.

}

Later that night…

}

Jim sighed and leaned his head back onto the folded towel. He stretched his legs, moving his feet up the side of the smooth enameled tub until his toes peaked out of the water. The steam filled his nose with aromas of mint and lavender as his brain slowed. He heard a grunt nearby and a splash. Opening one eye, he looked over at his partner in the next tub.

"Troubles? He muttered sleepily. "Keep your shoulder dry."

"Ya, ya," Artie said, turning slightly. He rested his left shoulder against the sloped side of the deep claw foot bathtub, moving his right shoulder out of the water more. "It's fine. I may sleep here tonight anyway, as long as they keep the hot water coming."

"That would be nice," Jim said, sighing deeply again as his eyes closed. "I admit, there were a few days where I never thought this would happen. That damned Stone whipping me was the worst. Thanks for breaking that up, by the way."

"That was pretty tame compared to the predicament with the head hunters," Artie said. Jim groaned at the memory. "Besides, both times interrupted my cooking…" Jim snorted and threw a handful of water at his partner. "Hey, my shoulder, watch it."

"I also admit that I will miss every one of those guys on that ship," Jim said quietly. "But they're doing all right now. Rowdy is pretty sharp, has learned a lot. The Captain will recover. And Rose," he snickered, "Rose will keep track of the books. She is good at her accounts."

"I will always remember Charley as a little kid trying to do a man's work," Artie said, "but he's learned a lot too. The others will help him now." He paused, grinning, "I loved how he sweet talked his way right into the kitchen tonight with those two young ladies."

"Ya," Jim laughed, "he certainly learned a few of your tricks. 'Hi, can I watch you cook a pancake?'" he said, making a bad imitation of Artemus. He ducked a handful of water from the other tub. "I was impressed by you, this entire trip, I have to admit."

"Oh?" Artemus grinned, without opening his eyes. "Cooking? Cannon refurbishment? Cannon crew recruitment and training? Or just the usual Jim ass-saving?"

"All of the above, partner," Jim grinned, "But especially that punch you gave Stone! You flattened him. How did you do it? I couldn't see behind me and I haven't had a chance to ask you the details."

Artie straightened up in the water, rubbing a hand over his face as he smiled at the memory. "Well, I was mostly worrying about you, as usual, and just wanted to block that lash from hitting you again. I put my," he started to lift his right hand and grunted in pain, "my right hand to block the whip and it wrapped around my wrist. Part of it hit my shoulder but didn't cut the skin. So, anyway, I yanked hard on the whip and it pulled him off balance. As he fell forward, I stepped close and punched him as hard as I could." He paused, remembering, his voice going low and slow. "He went stiff and his eyes rolled back. And he just collapsed in a pile on the deck." He shook his head, "just like a lot of big men. All mouth but with a glass jaw."

"It really impressed the crew," Jim said, "and it must have impressed Stone. He seemed to stay away from you after that. I thought he might back stab you but he was too yellow. If he could have gotten some of the crew on his side, he would have been braver and given us more trouble, but they all hated him. Even Wolvertin eventually hated him, after he was whipped."

"And what about Holliday," Artie asked. "We should try to contact his family so they know what happened to him. Poor man…"

"Poor man?" Jim snapped, "that guy was the biggest idiot I ever saw. He wouldn't do one thing to help himself or be useful to anyone. He had the entire crew trying to train him to do something…anything…and they warned him…"

"Fish out of water", Artie said with a shrug, "he just couldn't adapt. His life was probably always predictable and he didn't know how to readjust. He was like a banker that always worked from 9 to 5, but suddenly was told to come to work at 8 am."

"We can send a telegram to the town he was from and ask about a family," Jim said, "someone must have reported him missing; family, friends, work associates. But first," he said, sitting up and grinning at Artie, "you and I are heading south to Washington. How much more money do you have? That big dinner party must have taken most of it."

Artie grinned, "yes but we have enough for now. Room overnight. Food. Stage to a larger city where we can grab a train. Not sure how long it will take but we'll get there eventually."

"We should send a short telegram to Colonel Richmond letting him know," Jim added, "though we won't know our exact day ofr arrival." He ran a hand through his hair, feeling how long it was. "And I think I need a haircut. I don't want to look like a pirate when I get back." He looked at his partner. Artie's dark hair hung in long waves, especially the curl that hung down his forehead. "You're looking a little shaggy yourself, partner. Haircut and shaves in the morning, then breakfast, and hit the road."

"It will be good to get back," Artie said, leaning back onto the tub again. He paused as a man came in with two pitchers of hot water. Grumbling under his breath, the older man tottered around the tub, ignoring the men, and poured the steaming water into both baths. He stumbled out of the room, banging the door on his way out.

Jim grinned, watching his partner studying the old man's walk and mannerisms. "I guess I'll see that scene recreated in the future." Artie winked at him and closed his eyes again. "Well, I will be relieved to see my train again. And my horse…"

"Me, me, me," Artie muttered. "I've told you, that train has been given away to another agent and that vicious horse is off to the glue factory."

"Vicious?" Jim laughed, "he only bites you. And he hasn't done that for ages. I wonder if Sophie will remember us. I assume Cobb has been feeding her and the pigeons." He paused, thinking, "dogs remember people, don't they?" He picked up the bar of soap and began rubbing it across his chest. "I don't know anything about cats."

"I don't either," Artie muttered sleepily. "Wake me up when its breakfast."

Jim looked over at his friend, making sure he wasn't slipping down too low in the water. Satisfied his friend's injured shoulder was staying dry, he returned to scrubbing the fragrant soap over his skin. He covered his arms with suds and then leaned forward to scrub his legs and feet, twisting his knees in the narrow confines of the bathtub. Satisfied, he leaned back and dunked his head in the water and began soaping his hair.

}

Days later..

}

"It's gone!" Jim roared, stomping down the tracks and waving his hands in the air. "I knew it! That bastard Richmond gave our train away!"

Artie walked slowly, keeping a few paces behind his enraged partner. "I'm sure there's a good reason for it. We couldn't expect the train to sit here forever not being used. Let's go to the office next and…"

"And what," Jim snapped, turning on his friend. His face was red with anger and his left fist pounded his right palm over and over. Artie stepped back cautiously. "I was hoping to put on clean clothes…these are so ragged… before going to Headquarters. I didn't want to show up looking like a damned pirate! I suppose it will make our story more believable but…" he turned again to look at the end of the tracks where the varnish car usually was parked when in Washington. "But God Dammit!"

"West?" A deep voice boomed out from a nearby building. "West! Gordon! My stars! I never thought to see you two again!" The agents turned to see a tall man hurrying toward them.

"Cobb!" Jim said, a relieved smile breaking through his anger at the sign of their conductor. "Am I ever glad to see you too!" He clapped both his hands onto Cobb's hand as the man approached. Artie hurried to them to give the man a shoulder slap in greeting. "Gordon, you're injured. Do you need for me to send for a doctor?"

"Oh, no," Artie said, "I've been poked and prodded enough. And you look good. But shouldn't you be with the train?"

"Ole train's not far," Cobb said, nodding his head toward the nearby rail yard. "The engine tis in the shop and the varnish car is in storage. I guess you ain't been to your office yet then?"

Jim stepped back and let out a long breath, "no, I thought." He paused, grinning at Artie, "well, to hell with what I thought. What's happening with the engine? Nothing bad, I hope?"

"No, no," Cobb said, "just getting them welds strengthened, like I've been harping about but you never have time for." Cobb grinned, chewing a pipe in his teeth. "It was used once when you were gone for so long but as soon as it was back here, I requested," he said, using the word carefully, "that it be worked on." He stepped back and waved a hand, "follow me inside."

The group walked over the multiple sets of rails, dodging slow moving freight trains, hand trucks, and even an Express as it was rotated on the giant turn table. They paused by another boiler that's side was split wide open in shards of twisted metal exposing the long, snake-like rods of steal inside. "That's another engine that should have been worked on earlier. Those seals cracked on the boiler and the train lost steam, lost pressure, had to be pulled back. The engineer is lucky it didn't blow completely and kill the whole crew. Everyone is always in a hurry." He stepped onto the edge of the turntable, and Jim and Artie followed. They rode the turning deck, stepping off at the many work areas of the station. They walked under a tall archway of brick and entered one of the shadowed work rooms. Men, busy as bees, hurried past them, each carrying a different tool.

"There's your engine," Cobb said, pointing into the darker shadows. "Hard to recognize with it all taken apart like it is." They walked closer and Jim and Artie stood, confused, amidst a pile of giant metal rods and wheels.

"I take it this is controlled chaos," Artie said, rubbing a hand over his face. "I am sure these men know what they're doing."

"All of these fellas are the best parts men in the business," Cobb said. He turned and waved a fellow over. "Reynolds, this is Mr. West and Mr. Gordon," the man shook their hands, hurriedly, as Cobb continued; "they use the train most of the time. They keep me busy."

"Then you'll want to be knowing when it will be ready to run again," Reynolds said, nodding to them. He was a squat man with muscled forearms and broad shoulders, not much taller than Jim. Black greased was smeared along his jawline and the end of his nose, where sweat was beading. "It's a big job but we are efficient and practiced in our work. But we also do quality work that can't be rushed. I am going to say one week. But it's an estimate, you understand." He looked firmly at Jim and then at Artie, his words not ending in a question.

"Thank you," Jim said, nodding and taking a deep breath. "We appreciate your work."

Artie added, "Safety first." He backed up and turned toward the sunlight outside. His eyes watched the men hurrying past, curious about what they were doing, only half listening to his partner talking behind him. "Maybe I should learn how to work on steam engines," he muttered to himself.

Jim stepped next to him, "and you'd just get good at it as they would start running engines on something else. Just like the whale hunting." He slapped his partner on the shoulder, "Cobb said we can still use the varnish car. He told me where it was. Follow me." They walked past the working men, and stepped around various engine parts. The engines were all much larger than theirs, some huge boilers with piles of larger wheels. "They sure make these bigger and bigger," Jim said, nodding to a large boiler being welded. Two men worked next to each other closing a seam.

"Hey," Artie said, nudging his friend, "that looks familiar." He and Jim stopped as the sunlight shone through a large, nearby window, shining rays of light onto the end of the varnish car. The ornate grill by the back door, on the rear platform, glinted gold. "Looks safe and sound."

Jim walked forward, slowly at first, and then hurried the last few steps. He jumped up the steps two at a time and snapped the door open, stepping inside. He paused just inside the door, his hand still on the door knob. "My God," he whispered, "finally…"

Artie stepped in behind Jim, looking around as he walked into the room. He looked at the fireplace and then his eyes swept across the dining room table and the furniture, "just as we left it. As if it were only yesterday."

"It feels like it's been years," Jim said. He shook his head and closed the door. "As I said, I had times where I thought it would never happen." He walked across the room, absently running his fingers tips along the couch back, checking every detail. He walked to the back wall and tipped the ship over, noting the firearm was still in place. Then he moved the wall map down and looked at all the firearms on the wall, all hanging in their places. He turned and looked under the table and then at Artie, "I don't think Sophie is here. She would have come out from her hiding spot under the couch."

They turned and walked down the hall, checking each room as they went. Everything was in place but seemed oddly quiet without the kitten. "I hope she's all right," Jim whispered.

Artie ducked into the lab and checked in a few cupboards. "Everything is in place," he said, pausing as his eyes looked up, "but no pigeons. Well, maybe someone took the entire menagerie elsewhere? Maybe the workmen were upsetting them."

"Hmph," Jim said, walking into his room. "Well my clothes are still here, thankfully." He sat on the bed and pulled off his boots and socks. Then stood and stripped off every piece of clothing, throwing the pants and shirt into a pile on the carpet. "Rags. I can't believe I have worn the same cloths for…" he paused, thinking, "over four months, isn't it?"

"Yes," Artie said, walking past the open doorway, "Four months and four days, not counting today," he said. He peeked into the bathroom and then went on to his room. "Everything looks fine. Our horses must be out in the fields nearby, as usual. We can jump on them and ride in after we…"

"You won't be riding those horses," Cobb's voice called out down the hallway from the front room, "I've hailed you a cab."

Jim walked out to the front room, already dressed in his usual blue pants and white shirt. He was buttoning a blue and silver vest as he walked. "Cobb, what's going on with the horses? They aren't in the field out back?"

"No," Cobb said, "but they are being well taken care of, as far as I know. You see there were other agents using the train and before we all left, they took the cat, the birds, and the horses off. One feller said he was bringing them to his house. Said he had land for the horses and kids for the other animals."

Artie joined them, pulling on a clean shirt and carrying a brown vest in his teeth, obviously hurrying to hear the story. Jim laughed at him and turned back to Cobb, "and would this man's name be Jeremy Pike?"

Cobb nodded, "that'd be him. Reminded me a lot of Mr. Gordon, he did. And he was with that tall youngster," Cobb tapped his pipe on his teeth, "Steven somebody somesuch."

"Yes," Artie grinned, "pulling his vest on. Good to know they are all being well taken care of. Little Sophie won't be so little now and probably will have forgotten all about us."

"My horse won't forget me," Jim said, stomping into his boots. He waited impatiently for Artie to finish dressing and stomping into his own tall boots. Only having one arm was making him fumble. "Let's go, partner. We are back in business. Train or no train," he said, reaching over to help button a suspender. "Cripple," he snarked. "You lost so much weight your clothes look like they are on a scarecrow."

"No kidding," Artie sighed, rubbing his stomach. "I haven't been this thin such a was...well," he grinned, "well, it's been a long while, let's just say that."

They followed Cobb outside. Jim stopped, realizing again that being outside the varnish car was still inside a building. "I hope they won't care if we sleep here tonight."

"Might be a bit noisy," Cobb said, "you may want a hotel room."

"No," Jim said, grinning, "tonight I sleep in my own bed."

}

Later that afternoon….

}

"Jim?" The petite red-headed secretary stood in the middle of the large foyer of the Secret Service Headquarters building, frozen with shock. "JIM!" She shrieked, throwing an armload of files into the air, running forward to crash into Jim's chest. Amid a thick flutter of descending papers, Jim hugged her back, laughing, tears coming to his eyes. "It's you! It's you!" She pulled back to take his face in her hands, "I can't believe it's really you." Tears streaked down her checks and she kissed his face.

"Yes, I'm back," Jim said, grinning. He gave her a quick kiss on the lips as other agents, supervisors, and secretaries hurried into the front room from the myriad of hallways and offices. Many stopped to pick up papers but most just trampled over the reports in their haste. "Hey, I brought Artie back with me." He stepped forward as the girl released him, turning to look behind him.

"Artemus!" Melanie squealed again, turning to hug Artie. "Wait, are you hurt?" She pulled back to inspect his arm in the sling.

"I'm fine," Artie said, kissing the top of her head. "Have we missed any excitement around here?"

Before the girl could answer, others were pushing forward to shake the agents' hands or slap a shoulder in reunion. "Where the hell have you been?" and "thank God you're back!" floated around the group of gathering friends.

"Artemus!?" Laura, the tallest secretary, pushed her way forward, shoving men aside, to hug Artie, as Marlita stood a few steps back, waving and wiping tears from her eyes. "Oh, you have to tell us everything," Laura said, looking from one man to the other. "I don't want to read about it in a report either. I want you to tell us what happened. We've been all so worried."

"Good," Artie laughed, "Because I'm not writing it all down!" He gave Jim a soft punch in the shoulder as the crowd grew. "And we won't even remember it all anyway."

Jim grinned at his friends, trying to hug all the girls and shake all the men's hands. "I am hoping to forget most of it." He hooked one arm around Malinda's narrow waist, "Is Colonel Richmond in today?"

"Yes, he is in his office," she said, "I am bringing him these," she paused to look at her empty hands. "My Reports! What happened to my reports?" Her eyes noticed the white papers all over the granite floor. "Get off my papers! What happened?"

The crowd quickly stepped back and everyone dropped to the floor, scratching up the papers. Many were torn with dirt smeared everywhere. "Here," and "Sorry," came with the handfuls of reports.

"Oh, well," Melinda said, "small price to pay for getting the first kiss." She stood on her toes to kiss Jim's cheek. "Come on, I'll walk upstairs with you." They moved forward, with many people still following, hollering out questions. Artie shouted out a few answers and passed Jim as Melinda stopped to put the pages onto a shelf. "That can be tomorrow's work. Not today!" She wrapped an arm around Jim's waist as they followed Artie up the wide staircase to the second floor offices and down the long hall.

Artie reached the last office and quickly pushed the door open. He stopped, only inches from Christian's face. The girl's cobalt blue eyes widened in shock as she froze. He stood in his tracks, also frozen with surprise. The girl recovered faster, throwing herself against his chest, with a sob. She grabbed handfuls of his clothing as she buried her face in his throat, sobbing. "Artemus…"she cried, between sobs. "Thank God."

Artie wrapped his arms around her and held her, his face lowering into the dark waves of her hair. "I'm sorry, I'm a little late for our date."

Jim sighed heavily at the sight of the two of them, and whispered, "get a room," as he slide past them into the outer office. Melinda kept his left hand in her grasp as she also slipped past Artemus and Christian. They stopped in front of a long narrow desk with a young blond girl sitting at a typewriter.

"Name, please?" The girl seemed surprised and confused by all the excitement, as her eyes kept darting between Jim and Artemus, who was still hugging Christian in the office doorway.

"This is him," Melinda squealed, bouncing up and down on her toes, "and that's his partner!" She pointed toward Artemus. "It's them! They're back!"

"Ahhhhhh," the girl said, obviously dumbfounded.

Jim removed his hat and gave her a short bow, "James West, returned from the dead, apparently," he laughed, hugging Melinda with his left arm now. "And my partner Artemus Gordon. If he actually enters the office…" he said, raising his voice toward his partner, good-naturedly. Turning back to the girl, "you must be a new secretary. I'm not sure we've met." He gave her his dazzling smile as Melinda rolled her eyes next to him.

"Yes," the girl blushed, pink flushing her pale porcelain skin on her cheekbones. "I'm Celeste Montague. I started three months ago." She swallowed as Jim nodded to her. "So, you are two of the missing agents. That just leaves two more."

"What?" Jim said, his smile quickly disappearing. "There are agents missing?"

"Well, yes," Melinda said, "we thought you might all be together but apparently not. Well, I'm sure you'll be filled in by…"

"By your boss, who apparently isn't as interesting as all these young ladies," Colonel Richmond said from the doorway of his office. "I won't hug and kiss you but I'm still relived to see you back."

"Colonel!" Jim quickly stepped forward to shake the older man's hand, and giving his a slap on the shoulder. "I am as relived as you are, trust me!" Jim turned to look across the room, "Artemus. Let's go, partner." The room of people laughed as Artie and Christian finally parted. She followed him into the front room and slowly lowered herself into a chair, their eyes not parting until he finally turned away.

"Colonel, you old dog," Artie said, stepping forward to shake Richmond's hand. "Good to see you. You won't believe this story and I don't dare write it down in a report."

Richmond puffed his chest out, "I've never believed your reports anyway but they did always make for an interesting read." The men all burst out laughing as they moved into the inner office. Richmond waved the agents to the two leather chairs in front of the desk. He peeked out at Celeste, "please hold any visitors…", looking at Melinda, "don't go far. These boys will need expert help getting their employee paperwork cleared up today." She nodded and moved to the chair next to Christian.

Richmond turned back into his office, shutting the door behind him, and crossed to the far side of the room to where a small sideboard stood. He turned over two glasses and poured amber liquid from a carafe. He stepped to the agents and handed them to Jim and Artemus. He returned to pour a glass for himself and then moved back to his desk, sitting slowly into his chair, as a large smile formed on his features.

"My God," he breathed, holding the glass out in a salute, "to friends returned from a long journey." They all drank and grinned at each other. "I was wondering what in the world had happened to you two. We all wondered. We thought you had gone after a lead for Jeremy's case but, when you didn't return…" He shook his head. "And then I get this telegram." He picked up two envelopes from the telegraph office. "Two, actually, on the same day. I knew everything would be alright again. It was an omen." He looked at Jim, smiling, "you think I'm crazy, but you?" He turned to Artie, holding the envelopes out, "you would agree with me?"

"Why don't you tell us what's in the telegrams," Artie said, nodding to the envelopes. "Then we'll discuss omens. We've had some crazy times and it will take forever to tell them to you so maybe you should get us caught here first." Jim nodded in agreement, sipping his whiskey.

Richmond smiled and put down his glass. He unfolded one envelope, as it was already ripped open, "this one is from James, 'We are on our way back' it says." He grinned at Jim as Artie coughed whiskey into his sleeve. "You might have added from where you were coming back from, but we were elated to get it, all the same."

Artie looked at his partner, "seriously, that's what you wrote?"

Jim shrugged, "we were running short on money, we sent out two other telegrams, and," he grinned, "I really wasn't sure where the hell we were anyway."

"We were in Cape Breton," Artie said, looking to Richmond. He was met with silence and a confused look, "Cape Breton? North of Nova Scotia?" Another pause as Jim snickered. "Really far north of Maine?"

"Ah, yes," Richmond nodded, "I have heard of Maine. That explains your long journey back to Washington. Now this other telegram arrived by that same currier. He carried both, which is why this felt like an omen, like you were meant to come back at this moment in time." He unfolded the other envelope, reading, "There was an escape at the Manhattan Detention Complex in New York City yesterday. Along with a number of other prisoners, is the prisoner named 'Voltair'. A guard is also missing.'" Jim's eyes narrowed as his hand clenched the glass of whiskey. Richmond met his gaze. "Yes, Voltaire has escaped."

"Excuse me, sir," Artie said quietly, noting how silent and tense his partner had become at the news, "but why was Voltaire being held at a local city prison? That isn't even a state prison, much less a Federal one."

"I was surprised at that myself," Richmond said, "The Prison is nicknamed 'The Tomb' but doesn't appear all that secure. There also seems to be an odd paper trail of conflicting orders, signatures that don't match the correct people, other…irregularities…that went unnoticed." He took a deep breath, "the warden is doing a study of using exercise to calm the more stubborn and violent prisoners. They use those giant treadmills where all the men walk up moving steps for hours and hours. The monotony is supposed to calm their nerves." He shrugged, "anyway, somehow, Voltaire was transferred from the Federal penitentiary to this local prison. He must have been resistant to their calming experiments. And then was involved with an apparent organized revolt and escape."

"And a guard is missing too," Artie asked. He shook his head, sighing. "Dr Loveless escaped a couple times with Voltaire. Then they were housed in separate locations. Loveless still escaped and we haven't been able to catch him since."

"He must have been behind this," Jim growled, "No one else would care or even know of Voltaire's existence. And Loveless could imitate people's signatures. He would not have had all of the hand writing examples of the people involved to copy but he may have obtained the higher up, important wardens, and wrote orders for Voltaire's transfer."

"Voltaire is a large man," Artie said, "but there are many such men in prisons. I can't think of anyone else choosing him for a project of any kind over anyone else. Loveless may have seen the article and thought it was a good reason for the transfer, knowing it would be a less secure prison."

"So now what?" Jim asked, "Do we hunt him down? Or the person who formed this plan?"

"And you have two missing agent?" Artie added. "Does this all fit together?"

Richmond sighed, "I don't know yet. It's all so sudden." He rose and walked to the sideboard. He picked up the decanter and returned to the desk. "All I know about the two missing agents is that they were working a case, working at night, and never were seen again." He handed Jim the bottle. "Just like you two were except that now you two are back. I hope they return soon too." He sipped his drink and sat back in his chair. "Now, I would like you two to tell me what happened. I have a meeting in one hour so just the parts I can write in a report. I won't ask you two to write it all out. I want you to rest for a week, go visit those families I had to send letters to about their missing sons. Then come back and we will work this out. I have some people running tips for me so hopefully, by that time, I will know where to send you." He looked from Jim to Artie, "well, talk one at a time or at the same time. Let's hear about this adventure, gentlemen."

Jim and Artie exchanged a look, each took a gulp of whisky, and both started talking at the same time, their thoughts interweaving, finishing each other's sentence, almost as if one person was talking. Richmond listened, enthralled, making growing noises and an occasional comment.

Soon a soft knock on the door was heard. The agents paused as the door creaked open and the pretty blond secretary peeked in. "I am sorry to interrupt but you asked me to remind you about your meeting." She smiled and quickly shut the door.

Richmond smiled, "I didn't actually ask her to remind me but its good she did." He shook his head, "that is the most pleasant and courteous secretary I have ever had. Efficient as the day is long."

"And very pretty," Jim said, winking at Artie, "not that you noticed."

Artie laughed, shaking his head, "you know, I didn't even see her."

Richmond stood and moved to the door, "well you are both too late. There is a young, tall blond agent that has already caught her eye. Luckily we don't have rules against agents dating secretaries."

"Tall and blond," Jim said, "I think I know how that is." He gave his partner a gentle punch in his good shoulder, "any rules against agents dating other agents?"

Richmond's eyebrows climbed into his hairline, "I don't think we ever thought of the need for that rule. We might have to consider it." He winked at Jim, as Artie scowled. "But maybe not right away." He picked up his overcoat and hat, "I will walk out with you. I think you will need to stop at the payroll office. Accounts go onto Hold status after an agent is missing for three months, as you know. That's why we send the warning to the families too. So Melinda will help get that started again."

Jim opened the door to find Jeremy Pike standing in the office with his partner Steve. "Jer! " Jim stepped forward to shake the older agent's hand as Steve pounded his back. Artie moved out to repeat the process and their friends asked about his sling but he waved it off.

"Jer, I hear you two were using my train," Jim said, trying to glare at them. His dimples showed and he couldn't hold the stare, grinning, "heard you broke it too. We saw the train; it's all in pieces."

"It's not our fault," Steve said, "that engineer, Cobb, said it needed work for months and you wouldn't have it done."

"Cobb is always wanting to fix something," Artie added, "I swear he wants to run the train one day a week and have it worked out the other six days. At least the train car is in one piece. We heard you had our menagerie at your house."

"Oh, yes," Jeremy said, "it was like leading a circus." He rolled his eyes. The group pushed out the door, led by Richmond. Christian had quickly moved back to Artie's said and Melinda had grabbed Jim, as they left the office. Steve hung back to say his good byes to Celeste but then quickly joined them.

"Jim, that horse of yours," Jeremy continued, as they moved down the long hall. "It bit Steve in the arm as we took it out of the stable car. It was in the open field while we were gone. When the train went into service, we took both of the horses to my house and put them in the pasture. We didn't think that black horse would let anyone ride it so we tied it to a carriage. It acted alright as long as Artie's horse was nearby."

"Probably thought it was going to the glue factory," Artie said from behind them.

Jim turned to give his partner a sarcastic look, then turned back to Jeremy, "but it's been at your pasture now? Doing ok?" Jeremy nodded. "And how about the pigeons? Where did they end up?"

"We weren't sure what to do with them," Jeremy said, "we put them in the wooden travel boxes and brought them home but," he paused, "my kids opened the boxes and the birds flew out and down the lane they went. I swear they are back at the varnish car." He shrugged, "anytime we went near it, there were two pigeons on top, walking around. A brown one and a white one. They wouldn't come to us but maybe they will for you."

"Hm," Jim said, "we didn't see anything. Maybe when we get back tonight they will. They usually come if we call them by name or whistle."

"I couldn't remember their names," Jeremy laughed, "We also have little Sophie." He grinned as Jim and Artie nodded, "my son, who gave the cat to you. has been in charge of her. Odd cat though. She doesn't eat much, doesn't want to be near the other cats, just stays with him."

"She's probably just depressed," Artie said, as Jim rolled his eyes, "she would get very upset whenever he would leave the train car. Worried. Paced everywhere looking for him."

"She did at first," Jeremy said, "walked all over the house looking in all the rooms. She must have been looking for him." He slapped Jim's shoulder. "But I assume you will be over to collect your menagerie. Unless you can't since the train is still in pieces."

Jim grinned as they stopped in the main lobby downstairs, "I definitely need my horse but Sophie can cool her fuzzy heels at your place for another week. The train should be reassembled by then. I doubt the silly cat will remember us anyway." His friends laughed and booed around him. "Ok, ok," he said, "we'll find out later how good a cat's memory is. We'll be out later this afternoon, if you'll be home? I think we have paperwork to do first." He looked at Melinda and the girl nodded, waiting patiently.

"And we must have mail stacked sky high," Artie said, looking at Christian. She needed too.

"Ok, my errand first," Melinda said, tugging on Jim's elbow. "I hope is quick."

Jeremy stepped toward the front doors, with a last shout of, "I'll tell my wife to set out a few more plates for diner." Steve followed behind the older man, giving them a wave.

Jim and Artie, each with a girl on the arm, walked quickly down another hall. The doorways of the Secret Service Headquarters building were labeled with small signs attached to the walls. They walked under a few marked with various office jobs, finally turning into one marked "Payroll". A young woman looked up from a desk, neatly stacked with papers.

"Yes?" She looked up at the group over small, half-size glasses. Her eyes widened at the sight of Jim and Artemus. "Oh, you're back." Her mouth made a tight flat line of annoyance. "So all the paperwork I have worked on is now worthless."

"Really," Melinda said, a professional smile on her face as her eyes snapped in anger. "Jim and Artie are back from the dead and that's how you greet them?"

"Sorry to inconvenience you, Peg," Jim said, sweeping his hat off and giving the young lady a dashing smile, "we just got back today an wanted to help correct all the confusion that must have occurred over the last few months."

"Good, because correcting is what you will be doing," she snapped, "both of you," her eyes moving to include Artemus in her glare. "And it's Margaret, if you please." She stood and walked to a shelf of paperwork behind her. She began pulling out papers and returned to her desk. Moving a pile of folders aside she put the two papers on the desk next to each other. "Now," she said, with a pen raised, "you are now returning to 'LIVE' status, correct?"

"We thought we might," Artemus said, smiling at her. When her brown eyes snapped up at him over the edge glasses, his eyebrows went up. "If it isn't too much of an inconvenience?" he muttered.

"Really, Peg," Melinda said, "this is uncalled for. Just give them the forms to fill out and we'll all be done. They can write down the information faster than you and it wouldn't interrupt your other work."

Peg paused, and then handed the forms to the agents. "Please fill them out here," she snapped, pointing to a nearby table, "you can't leave with them. There are pens over there too."

Jim and Artie took the papers, nodding their thanks, and moved to the table. The group sat down and looked curiously at the form. "So," Jim said, looking at the page in front of him. "I guess I'll check "ALIVE". Reason? Should I write 'returned from the dead'?"

"Just put a long trip," Melinda said, "no one needs to know where you were."

"That's good, since I don't really know where I've been," Artie muttered, bending over to write. "How about injury? Minor? Gun shot?"

"You can," Jim said, "I am writing in 'NO'."

"Not a scratch?" Christian said, "You two are so lucky." Jim and Artie exchanged a look but both kept silent. "Your mail is all mixed together in a large box. It's being stored in the back area of the mail room. They will be excited to see you."

"So they can stop tripping over a big box in the mailroom," Melinda laughed, "better than…" She nodded her head toward Peg who watched silently from her desk. "Almost done, Peg," she called out. Jim grinned as he looked down at the form again.

"I'm just signing this," Jim said, looking at the page, "this is a waste of time. 'ALIVE' is the only answer they need." He slid his chair back and held his hand out for Artie's form. "Stop reading and sign the damn thing. We have other things to do today."

Artie's eyes quickly dashed down the page and he scribbled his name at the bottom. "Date?" He looked at Christian, "what is the date? Wait, let me guess...August 10th?" The girl nodded.

"August 10th," Melinda said, "you almost missed the entire summer. Hope you two have a lot of stories to tell because we want to hear them."

Jim took the forms and brought them back to Peg, handing them back with a short bow. "Our pay has been going into our bank accounts then while we were gone, right?"

Peg's eyes scanned the two pages, which were mostly blank. She stood, turning to put the pages into a box on a back table. She returned to her desk and picked up her pen, "Yes," she said without looking at Jim, "your pay was deposited into your accounts for the first three months. At the end of the third month, the pay was put on hold. A lump sum check will be deposited when the forms are approved, officially re-instating your positions." She started to write on another form, returning to her work, "thank you for your cooperation."

Jim bowed again, "thank you, Margaret," he said, smiling as she picked her head up at the sound of her full name, "and I do appreciate your help." The girl's cheeks blushed as a weak smile showed on her face. Artie tipped his hat to her and the group moved out to the hallway.

"Mailroom next and then the bank," Artie announced, leading the way. "And then you two will accompany us to Jeremy's to collect our horses?"

"Of course," Melinda said, as Christian squeeze Artie's elbow, showing no signs of letting go. "You two might need more advice on paperwork."

"Artemus, do you remember if Jer mentioned if our saddles are with the horses?" Jim asked. "I would like to ride my horse while using my saddle." Artie shrugged, shaking his head. "We'll figure it out when we get there. We can tie them to a carriage and pull them back to the train, I suppose."

}

Jim stood in the later afternoon sunshine, his dark blue jacket tossed over the top rail of the wooden fence in front of him, and a piece of long wheat grass stuck between his lips. He stood, chewing, hands on hips, watching the field full of horses. Many were brown, tan, buckskin, and white, with a couple of paints. Only one was a black horse, its dark coat shining in the sunlight. He took the piece of grass out of his mouth and whistled two sharp notes. The black horse's head snapped up and looked across the field at him. He whistled again and the horse burst into a gallop, racing over the cropped grass. Jim grinned and jumped onto the railing, straddling it. The horse thundered to the fence and skidded to a stop, rearing onto its back legs. The horse let out a loud whinny as it dropped to all fours again. Jim swung his leg over and dropped to the ground.

"Hey, big fella," he said, rubbing the animal under the face. "Did you miss me?" The horse tossed its head. "Oh, you did? Well I missed you to. I worried the entire time." He ran his hands down the horse's neck and back, checking it. The horse turned to nuzzle its nose against his shoulder. "Good boy, you look good. Someone's been spoiling you," he said softly, wrapping an arm around the animal's neck. He looked past the fence at Artemus, who was watching with a grin. "He seems fine," Jim said, turning to Jeremy and a motley collection of kids of various sizes. "Thank you for taking care of him. Thank you all too," he said, leaning over to see all the young faces. The girls giggled and hopped up and down as the boys looked on more seriously.

"And Artemus, your horse is out there somewhere too," Jeremy added, "can you whistle your's in too?" Jeremy grinned, knowing how much Jim adored his horse.

"No," Artie said, "it will just wander over when its good and ready. It's not a pet dog, it's a horse."

"Stupid brown horse," Jim said, grinning, "you could try to teach it a few things if you spent time with it."

"I just ride it and try not to fall off," Artie said. "If you're done playing with your big pet, I was going to find some shade and get another glass of lemonade." He turned and started to walk back to the house, where people were seated on wooden chairs under the shade of large apple trees.

"And hurry back to Christian," Jim said to his horse, "it's nothing personal, he just likes girls better than horses." Jim patted the animal's face, "you go hang with the other horses. We'll go riding later tonight." He stroked a long ear and the soft nose as he stepped back. "Off you go," he said, and the animal turned and trotted back to join the other horses on the far said of the field.

"You sure love that horse," one of the little boys said.

"Yes," Jim said, climbing back over the rail fence. "If you take good care of a horse, it will become very smart. But you already know that since you have horses. And I bet you spend a lot of time with them." He dropped down to the grass and pressed a hand onto the boy's shoulder. "And I thank you for your work too."

"I helped take care of Sophie," a little girl said, "she is so sad."

"She missed you," another girl said. "We have to find her. She hides a lot."

Jim laughed, his face blushing. "Ok, let's go find her. I doubt she remembers me though. Do cats remember people?" The girls each grabbed one of his hands and began trying to pull him toward the house. "And you have a lot of cats. What if I can't remember which one is Sophie?"

"She'll remember," the little girls both yelled. "She won't forget." Jeremy followed behind with his two sons. "If you call to her she'll come out. Do you have a whistle song for her too?"

"I don't remember," Jim teased, walking with the girls back to the chairs near the house, "what was her name again? I forgot." He caught his partner's eye and winked at him. Artie had been sworn to silence about all the dreams Jim had had about Sophie while on the ship.

"Sophie," the two girls yelled out. Older children were setting plates and silverware on a long table on the back stone patio. One turned to the girls and told them to go inside to help serve dinner. The little girls released Jim's hands to scamper inside.

Jim turned to join his friends. Artie, with Christian at his side, and Steve, with Celeste from the office, stood together talking. Colonel Richmond was speaking with Jeremy as they sat in chairs in the shade. Children scampered everywhere. "Jer, are all these kids yours? Apparently I have lost track of how many you have."

"Some seem to belong to the neighbors," Jeremy said slowly, looking at the young faces. "And some of mine seem to be missing. We trade back and forth. Occasionally we sort them out." He nodded to an older girl holding a baby. "There is the young lady we adopted from the hospital when Artemus was in having his burn treatments. I have to keep my wife out of orphanages; we would have a dozen more, poor things." Artie peeked under the bonnet of the little girl, "she is growing like a weed."

"Ouch!" Jim yelped, looking down at his right leg. He felt the familiar sensation of a thousand tiny needles sticking into his skin, He looked down to see a grey cat attached to his lower leg, just above his boot. "Hey, Sophie?"

The kitten let out a long meow, and climbed up his pant leg. He leaned over to pull claws out of the deep blue cloth before the kitten reached his waist. "Sophie, is that you? You are so big now." He pulled the kitten to his face and the she licked him furiously. "Stop, I don't need my face washed by a cat." He put a hand on her head, patting her. The kitten snuggled under his chin, the little paws clinging to his shirt. "Artie, look! It's her. She did remember me." He ran a hand down her back and out her long tail. "Look how big she is."

Artie came over to pat the kitten, looking at her. "She is bigger. Thin though, I can feel her bones," he looked at her eyes as she rubbed her forehead against Jim's chin. "Hasn't anyone been feeding you, sweetheart?"

Jer motioned to the cat, as the group stared at the two agents, "she doesn't seem to eat anything. She follows the other cats around but seems confused and lost. Odd cat," he said, sipping his lemonade.

"Oh, poor Sophie," Jim said, hugging the tiny body to his face. "We'll fatten you up. Artie can't wait to start cooking and eating everything. No fish, though, sorry. We're done with fish."

"Oh, no," Steve said, "that's what Jeremy's wife is cooking. There's platters of fish in the kitchen."

Artie looked back at the tall blond, panic quickly turning to amusement on his face, "don't even joke about that, Steve." He turned as an older woman, followed by a line of young girls, all walked out of the back door to the table, each carrying a bowl or platter. "Besides, it smells like chicken."

"Oh, chicken," Jim said, his lips on Sophie's face, "you love chicken. Let's go eat." The kitten meowed and licked his nose. "Stop, no licking." He pushed his nose into her fur again as he carried her to the table.

Jeremy's wife stared at him as they all sat. Jim put the kitten in his lap and the tiny face peeked up over the edge of the table. "You are taller. You can see onto my plate now."

"You feed her at the table?" Jeremy asked, clearly surprised. "Do you feed her food from the table? Scraps?"

"Well," Jim said, "she eats what we eat. She usually sits with me, or Artie. Sorry but he seems to be second favorite." He grinned at his partner, at their old, private joke. "Chicken, peas, corn, bread. She eats anything."

"Except Sauerkraut," Artie said, "she tried and shook all over. Too strong of vinegar."

Meow. The cat looked at him with huge dark eyes, as the grey tail fluffed against Jim's throat.

"Yes," Artie said, looking at the kitten, "I know. I wont ever serve it to you again."

Meow. She turned to look at the food as it was served.

Bowls of food were passed around the long table. Melinda sat to the left of Jim, curiously watching the cat. Christian and the kids watched from farther down the seats. As Jim put food on his plate, a tiny paw reached toward the food, with claws stretched out.

"Here, eat that while cut up the chicken," Jim said, pushing a piece of cooked carrot toward her. The claws reached over the edge of the plate and stabbed the carrot. Sophie quickly pulled it off the plate and over the edge of the table, dropping it onto his thigh and began eating it. A wet area from the butter soaked into his pant leg. "You need a plate," he said, moving a small side plate to this leg. He put the piece of carrot onto the plate, as Sophie chewed.

"You really are feeding the cat at the table,?" Jeremy looked at his wife, "I guess we should have tried that. Maybe Sophie forgot she was a cat. She seems to think she's a human." Jeremy kids all laughed at this.

"We'll train her to be an agent," Jim said, cutting his piece of chicken into small pieces. "What did you feed her?"

"She just ran with the other cats," the kids said, all yelling at once, "we give them scraps and they catch mice."

"Mice," Artie snorted, "maybe she learned how to catch a mouse. So far, she seems scared of them."

"Maybe she did," Jim said, "though she still seems to hunt for chicken." The little face was looking at his plate. She spotted the chicken and the little paw reached out, snagging a piece. She put it on the little plate and began chewing. Jim patted her as he watched her closely. "Chew good, no chocking, fuzzball."

Artie watched, relieved at how relaxed his partner had become now that Sophie and the horse were found to be safe. "Well, tomorrow, Jim and I will go in separate directions. I am going to New York City to see my family and he is off to visit his mother." Jeremy and his wife nodded.

Christian stared at Artemus as he spoke, reaching out a hand to squeeze his elbow. "Your family will be relieved to see you. The telegrams you both sent bust have been very welcome."

"We tell them not to worry," Jim said, handing Sophie another carrot, "but they do anyway. But relaxing for a few days will be good." He winked at Jeremy, "think you all can stand to take care of this cat for a few more days? I can't carry her on my saddle while I ride."

"Oh, sure you could," Artie said, winking at the kids, "don't you all think he should bring Sophie with him?" A chorus of "yes" and "no" and "I want to keep her" erupted from the far end of the table where most of the kids were seated.

"Oh, no," Jim laughed, "I think riding that fancy horse with a kitten would not look right. And she might fall off. So she is safer here. You all," he said, looking at the kids, "just need to feed her. Not that she's spoiled, or anything." The adults groaned and rolled their eyes as the kids squealed with laughter. Jim looked down at Sophie, brushing bits or orange pieces from her whiskers. "No, you're not spoiled at all."

The end !


End file.
